


Redemption bound

by nobodyshome0



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Season/Series 04, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blood and Gore, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Sex, Falling In Love, Gladiator Dean, Hate to Love, Heteroflexibility, Light Bondage, M/M, Memory Alteration, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Bondage, Pansexual Character, Rated For Violence, Series, Slash, Slow Burn, Torture, Unrequited Balthazar/Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 105,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobodyshome0/pseuds/nobodyshome0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Angels have enslaved the earth and Dean is Castiel's unwilling slave, but there is more going on beneath surface. What are Castiel's true intentions towards Dean and where do his loyalties lie? What happened to Sam? Can Dean come to terms with being a slave or will he turn the tables on his would be master. slow burn, and bondage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to see your comments and know what you think

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Supernatural world, which is trademarked by the CW, and Eric Kripke. Both Castiel and Dean are characters created and owned by Eric Kripke, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of story I tell here about is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of the canon. As much as I wish it were so this is not considered canon and I profit in no way from posting this. Don't sue me, I have no money. This story is not designed to be an accurate depiction of a BDSM relationship their mantra is safe, sane, and consensual and I can’t guarantee that this story will be all three at the same time. This is a fantasy, not reality so don’t bitch me out when I stray I know it’s wrong.

The corridor was dark, lit only by intermittent torches that did nothing to chase away the shadows and only added clouds of smoke to the already thick air. There was something that looks suspiciously like raw sewage lazily drifting its way across the floor. The stone walls were cold and uninviting, the smell in the air was rank with sweat, feces, urine and blood. Castiel scowled at the rat that scurried quickly away from him.

This place was disgusting it was not fit for any human being to live in these conditions, but there were thousands living under this roof, though none by their accord. Hell was the largest prison in the capital filled mostly with resistance fighters, journalists, and other petty criminals that the Angelic State wanted to make an example of. The very thought of all these poor souls languishing away in this cesspit churned his stomach, but there was little he could do for them. Castiel was not on a mission of mercy, as much as he wished that he could free everyone from this abyss he was only here for one man in particular, and only for his own selfish goal. His brother wrinkled up his nose as they came across another pool of bodily fluids.

“Please Cassie can’t we just go to one of those nicer places, why must you insist on taking in strays?” Castiel ignored Balthazar’s near whining. As he continued on following their guide as he led them deeper into the prison. The further they went the louder it became; Castiel was unnerved by the sounds unsure what it was at first until it dawned on him, it was people screaming. He repressed a shudder glancing at Balthazar to see that he held the same expression. While not a human champion like himself, Balthazar had a certain degree of empathy that it seemed many of his species lacked.

Hell wasn’t the prison’s original name, it earned its current moniker slowly over time, it was what the human’s called it, named after some mythological terrible place, and eventually the angel’s accepted the name. There were several inhabitants overcrowded into barred rooms on either side of the path. They were thin and dirty streaked in their own filth Castiel only hoped that his target lived in better conditions.

It was compulsory for high ranking members of the Angelic Order to keep humans as slaves, as a representation for their dominion over Earth, and while Castiel was only a soldier, a man of his station was expected to have a prize, his spoils of war. An example of human perfection bowed down in supplication to him as a symbol for mankind’s subservience to his angelic grace. Castiel had avoided his privilege for as long as he could, finding the idea of keeping a human as a glorified pet distasteful. His brothers, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the past time. Balthazar had claimed woman after woman to be a part of his household until he had a virtual harem of human slaves at his disposal; his harem was only rivaled by Gabriel’s.

Many others preferred to keep their humans for much more violent amusement, Uriel favored pitting them against each other in gladiatorial battles to the death, despising humans as lesser creatures he did not see fit to have them pleasure him. Castiel was unsure; he did not want a prize. The more time he spent on earth, the more he questioned his species conquering of helpless planets. Surely there were better ways to add to the culture, but like a good soldier when his time came to leave his planet to serve the goal of the Angelic Empire he fought without question. They conquered Earth without much effort, leaving only small patches of resistance that caused them few and infrequent troubles.

Which led him to this point in time, Raphael gave him an order and Castiel always obeyed his orders. Once the Earth was conquered the majority of the Angelic army returned home to Heaven, leaving a garrison behind to keep the planet under control. It was important that the symbolic control they had was so firmly rooted in human minds that there was no question of who was in charge. Raphael commanded him to take a prize, and his orders were law, only Michael had more power than him and Castiel had yet to meet the man. Balthazar had suggested that they go to one of the palaces that specialized in training slaves in the art of pleasure.

“That would probably be the first step in removing the stick from your ass.” He had said, but Castiel had no intention of forming a sexual relationship with his slave. He had chosen this man specifically because owning him would give Castiel enough standing that he would not need to keep up the charade of owning him long and he would not be expected continue gathering slaves when the one he had would continually give him trouble. They reached a door at the end of a long hallway. The guard unlocked the door and handed Castiel the keys

“I will be back in ten minutes to see if you made up your mind.” He told them. Castiel reached for the handle, but Balthazar reached across him and leaned against the door.

“You are going through with this aren’t you?” he demanded aghast. This was the only way that Cas knew that he could retain his honor as an angel and do some good; he could free a righteous man from Hell while maintaining his station. “Do you have any idea how much trouble this one will give you?” Balthazar continued.

“He cannot be broken; it’s been four years, and he never gave us any useful information. He will not submit to you.” That was what Castiel was counting on. Castiel opened the door, closing it quickly behind him; Balthazar shot him a dirty look through the barred portion of the door, but said nothing about his exclusion. The room was small but thankfully clean of the filth he had seen elsewhere in the prison. The heat this deep into the prison was beginning to affect him, his species were nearly immune to prolonged cold, but periods of intense heat caused discomfort as it did in humans. He pulled his tie loose the Angels inserted much of their culture on Earth they adapted simple things such as clothing styles to suit their needs depending on the planet

. Castiel located his target quickly in the dim chamber; he was shirtless and chained to the wall. A shiny silver metallic collar was around his neck held shut by a solid padlock he had the same style thick silver cuffs at his wrists and ankles connected by a heavy silver chain which dangled across his chest, which was pulled tight, forcing him in a standing position with his arms at either side of his head, by the chain.   If Castiel knew less about the man, he might find it excessive, but judging by his reputation Dean Winchester was not a man to be trifled with.

The tattoo branding him as one of the resistance fighters graced his chest above his heart a pentagram in a circle of flames, and while he was on the thin side, he still retained a strong physique likely because of the long tedious hours he was left alone, but unchained. Castiel couldn’t help but admire the man, for the fine physical specimen that he represented. This was important to his goal; he needed a human who was desirable an example of human beauty to keep his brothers from realizing that he was not availing himself of his charms.

His face was clean shaven and it looked like they had attempted to clean him up some for his presence, he was freshly showered and his hair was cut short there was also a baton sized bruise along his ribs and he boasted a split lip and a blackened eye, but his good eye was a vibrant green even in the dim light Castiel could see the spark of repressed rage and animosity towards him. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

***

“Castiel.” The stranger replied. Dean forced himself to stand up straight even though his ribs were killing him. This morning five guards came in hit him over the head with the baton and trussed him up like this dumped buckets of water on him, cut his hair the best they could with him fighting against the chains and even ran a razor over him and shaved his beard. It was the closest Dean got to anything vaguely sharp that wasn’t stabbing him in four years.

So when a strange man entered his cell Dean was expecting the damned Angel pope or something, but instead was surprised to find this rather unassuming, though attractive man was staring at him. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I mean what are you?” he asked, knowing the answer he would get.

The man was tall, but still shorter than himself, he wore a white dress shirt and dark slacks like most of the angels, his face was covered in dark stubble and bright blue eyes stared back at him with no malice. A slight frown furred the man’s brows.

“I am an Angel of the Lord” Dean nodded, it figured that was the only reason somebody would bother cleaning him up was a visit from one of the winged dicks. The Earth was part of the Angelic Empire now and as far as the angels were concerned the humans could either join the union willingly and become slaves or perish. Dean took the third option and fought back, it landed him in this god forsaken hell hole for four years, but he never regretted his decision to follow in his father’s footsteps.

John Winchester joined the rebellion just after the invasion. Dean was only four when the winged dicks showed up; one of them killed his mom right in front of him Sammy wasn’t even a year old yet. He felt the familiar pain of regret and worry, as he wondered what happened to Sammy after he got captured, but he would be damned again before he showed any weakness in front of the angel. The angel… Castiel? Was studying him, his blue eyes intensely focused on his face, he stepped closer, and Dean wished desperately that his legs weren’t shackled to the floor because then he could kick the angel away. It was freaking awkward having the man so close. “You ever hear about personal space buddy?” he growled as the angel firmly gripped his chin and began examining first the bruises on his face, he traced the line of his jaw pausing at razor cut from his struggles he laid a cool finger against his eye. Than his split lip before moving down to his chest with light featherlike fingertips that skimmed along the bruise sending streaks of fire where they had no right to go. No way was he attracted to the angel; it had just been a long time that’s all. The angel’s face was inches from his own as he studied him; his lips were full and looked inviting… a very long time Dean decided.

“We need to talk.” The angel said suddenly his voice sounded huskier. He glanced pointedly towards the door. “ Alone.” Dean couldn’t see if someone else was there from his angle, but he assumed either a human guard or another angel. Dean didn’t bother forming a reply in his experience when angels wanted to talk it, usually; involved sharp pointed objects and there wasn’t much from him on the conversation front.

Castiel could tell by the look on the human’s face that he would not make this easy for him to say, strangely seeing him now made Castiel feel even more uncomfortable with the idea of owning this man. Even chained to the wall Dean was a powerful presence in the room, his anger felt like a live wire sending electricity crackling about them.

“I am here to help you Dean Winchester. I am going to take you out of this place.” Castiel began trying to reason with the man. If he could get Dean to come with him willingly, it would make things a lot easier in the days to come. Dean nearly flinched at the mention of his name, so this wasn’t just a random social call this was specifically about him.

“Get the hell outta here, an angel that wants to help me? There’s no such thing.” He aimed for sounding cocky and self-assured, but all that came out was stiff disbelief. The angel cocked his head to the side suspiciously like a cat watching its prey.

“This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.” Dean snorted; he was in a political prison, chained to a wall when the guards didn’t torture him for information they forgot he existed. No one was here to help him unless they were here to shove a knife in his ribs and end it.

“Look, pal, I'm not buying what you're selling. So, who are you really? The angel looked hurt and confused again, but continued

“ I told you.”

Castiel was confused by the anger he saw in Dean as he continued.

“Right, and why would an angel rescue me from Hell?” the wrath behind the words were surprising. Castiel had not expected Dean to question his motives so vehemently he tried to reassure the human.

“Good things do happen, Dean.” He said as gently as he could, knowing that what he offered may not be good it was the only good option available to either of them. Dean clenched his jaw and answered through his teeth all the pain, loss and mistrust in his life seeping out with his words.

“ Not in my experience.” Castiel frowned at the human.

“What’s the matter?” Was he a martyr? Did he refuse Castiel’s offer out of spite. Then it dawned on Castiel the realization made him sad.

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” Dean didn’t reply; it wasn’t a question and a denial would only serve to make him look weak. Instead, he waited for the angel to get to his point. They always had one; they were creatures of the master plan. The man said nothing, just continued to stare at him with that same sad look on his face. There was a loud knock at the door.

“Cassie the guard is here,” another accented voice called out and still the angel didn’t break eye contact. Dean felt a shiver crawl down his spine. What was with this guy? In his experience angels were not the laid back type. If Castiel wanted something from him, he was going about it very differently than the others had.

Castiel opened the door, letting the jailor inside; the man was human. Most of the service workers were, but the man glared at Dean, who smiled smugly. “Did you want him gift wrapped?” The man asked. Dean frowned, not liking how they were talking about him without talking to him.

“Hey, I’m right here.” He shouted. They ignored him Castiel gave a barely perceptible nod and the jailor whipped out a stun baton.

“You just keep your distance, asshat.” He threatened futilely chained as he was; he was unable to avoid the shock that instantly rendered him unconscious.

Castiel watched as his human was bound in a black straight jacket, forcing his arms across his chest, and a black bite guard was placed in his mouth. The collar at his neck was attached to a thick chain leash while his feet were shackled together to inhibit mobility. The guard nodded and left. Balthazar entered the room “He is nice to look at I’ll give you that Cassie.” He murmured. Castiel found himself nodding absently. Now that he had acquired Dean it was all too real, he wasn’t sure what the next step was.

Obviously it was to take him home and try to help him acclimate to his new life as smoothly as possible. There was one more thing he needed to prove his ownership over Dean it was something he wasn’t quite looking forward to.

Dean came to very slowly and realized that he was bound for someone else’s pleasure. The angel was taking him someplace away from Hell, but considering that he was bound and gagged he was still a prisoner. “whooo th uck r youu? He demanded around the bar. There was another angel in the room, but Dean didn’t care who that was this was between him and the bastard who had him tied up. Dean struggled to a kneeling position as the angel approached him, he laid a hand on his left shoulder there was a seething pain almost like he was burning him, but the jacket was intact. Dean muffled a scream not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.”


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are mixed feelings as to when Sammy went to school and for how long. I am saying that he attended the full four years and that the reference in the pilot when Dean say he hadn't seen Sammy in two years was a reference to a time they met after Sammy went to school.

Dean glared daggers at him as Castiel led him out of the dungeon. The pathway out seemed to pass much quicker than their decent in. Balthazar just continued to roll his eyes at him, his brother thought that he had lost him mind, but then again Balthazar didn’t quite understand his human sympathies he merely went along with them for his sake. As they spoke to quaestor on matters of payment, Dean watched them warily Castiel was spending a small fortune to free Dean, but he knew it would be worth it and a small part of him was proud to have a warrior as his prize, even if Dean was not a true prize. While Castiel had never personally fought against the resistance members, the stories of the Winchesters were legendary. Dean’s capture was a miracle in its own right, a stroke of pure luck.

Dean wanted to hit everything in sight if nothing else for the fact that it would make him feel better. He hated this helplessness, he had been in prison a long time, but he had never been at anyone’s beck and call Castiel pulled on his leash and it was either follow or fall and as much as he would like to dig in his heels to spite him he would only hurt himself. Dean was stubborn, everyone who knew him would attest to that, but he wasn’t flat out stupid. He knew when to attack and when to wait for the best possible opportunity. Dean was not sure what the angel wanted with him they were speaking in the gibberish that all angels did. Hell for all he knew maybe he was actually getting that trial they had publicly claimed would happen, but part of him knew better.

           Castiel nervously finished up the acquisition paperwork wanting to be done with the awful place once and for all. Dean was glancing around soaking in every relevant fact that he could about their surroundings. Castiel half expected him to make an escape attempt before they were even out the door. It was obvious that Dean had little idea of what transpired between them. Most humans couldn’t understand Enochian; Castiel wasn’t sure why he had somehow hoped Dean would be different. It would be nice to be able to speak his language in his home, to someone other than his brothers.

The light was blinding as he stumbled out of the prison all Dean could do was continually blink trying to let his eyes focus to more light that they had seen in four years, and the air, it smelled so clean and fresh. It was a lot to take in, and it didn’t help his pride any that he was bound up like a sex-fiend’s Christmas present.

“See you later Cassie I’ve seen enough of your madness today let me know when he tries to kill you.” The other angel said waving as he turned to leave. Castiel just frowned after him. In his experience angels were serious, serious dicks, but, Castiel was bordering on brooding. He turned back to Dean glancing at the leash in his hand almost as if he no longer knew what to do with it.

I am going to take you back to my home,” He said finally Dean just raised a brow annoyed; he tossed his head and groaned in an effort to convince the angel to remove the gag. Dean had a bad feeling that something happened back in the prison, and he had totally missed it. His heart beat fast as a panicked thought ran through him. Was Castiel one of the angels they had fought against? Did he want some sick revenge? Dean tensed trying to loosen the anxiety that gathered in his shoulders. He could handle revenge what he couldn’t handle was being some angle’s pretty little object. Not again.

           When he was younger maybe sixteen he had gone into town with his dad to get supplies, they ended up in a bar drinking having a good time, with other hunters, when the junkless wonders came in and started rounding everybody up. Sammy had stayed back at camp with Bobby since he was too young to drink, and Bobby claimed he was too old to drink with anyone, but himself. That was the first time he spent time in jail; they had shoved him his dad and a bunch of other hunters in a big cage and left them there for days.

           They were cramped, cold, and starved. It had been miserable, but the worst of it was when the angel’s came for him. They took him, and another young hunter named Cassie to one of the palaces. They gave them nice clothes, good food, comfortable beds and all they had to do in exchange was give up everything that made them truly free. He spent six months there training to be a Bliora, a glorified courtesan. They taught him some about angel culture their customs and how to serve them in every way he wound up with a thorough education and as much as Dean hated to admit it sixteen year old him had enjoyed the luxuries, at least to a point, especially the food and the sex. Dean liked sex. He liked it with women and he soon found out he liked it with men as well. The idea of not only getting to have sex regularly, but good kinky sex was a high element in the angel’s favor. Part of him would have been happy to stay there and enjoy the food, sex, and alcohol in peaceful an easy life until he and Cassie started having sex.

Dean suppressed a shudder to this day what they did to her still haunted him enough that he pushed the images to the back of his mind, slaves had no legal personhood and could not form their own relationships, they could be subjected to corporal punishment, sexual exploitation, torture, execution without any repercussions and the testimony of a slave could not be accepted in a court of law unless the slave was tortured. They caught them having sex and beat him for days before they decided to torture her they tortured her until she admitted about the relationship. It was forbidden for Bliora to fraternize with each other outside of training; they were meant only for angel enjoyment. Dean never found out what they did to Cassie, but they sent him back to the palace and he never saw her again.

Everything had changed the idea of existing for someone else’s pleasure pissed him off, it was humiliating, and the servitude grated against everything he stood for. The luxuries made him feel cheap, he was a soldier, and he followed orders constantly, but he always had a choice. They took away his independence, yeah the gig had perks, but no amount of sex could make up for what happened to Cassie because of him, or change the fact that he was left without choice for the first time in his life. He escaped the next week; he looked for Cassie for a while, but he never could find out what happened to her. For all, he knew they killed her because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

By the time he made it back to the prison where he last saw his dad, he had already made an escape of his own. It took him two more months to catch up with him. They were cold lonely months filled with regret and self-hatred. Dean never told John what the angel’s wanted him for, but he never had to. John had known what the angles tried to make him into. He looked at him differently after that; Dean didn’t know if he knew about the men or just the fact that he was being trained to service angels, but things were never the same. It felt like John judged him for his moment of weakness, but it wasn’t worse than how he judged himself. He should never have allowed himself to be happy playing second fiddle to anyone. He made a promise to himself that he would never give up his choice again. That he would never take luxuries over freedom. Dean Winchester team free will all the way.

Castiel understood that the human wanted him to remove the gag. Castiel shuffled Dean into his car, careful to keep him from hitting his head on the roof of the car. The positioning of his arms likely was uncomfortable but short of removing the jacket it was the best he could do, and he knew the moment the jacket came off Dean would try to escape. He buckled him into his seatbelt before he removed the gag. Dean glared at him resentment boiling on the surface.

“What did you say?” Dean demanded.

Castiel’s felt his brow furrow again in bewilderment

“I am going to take you back to my home,” Castiel repeated worried that repeated injuries to the head had somehow caused permanent damage to Dean’s memory.

“Why the fuck for?” Dean demanded he was getting pissed he knew somehow that this wasn’t right. Angel’s didn’t take slaves from prisons to be servants it was too risky, and there were thousands of people lining up for those jobs there wasn’t any need to take slaves for that. Angles didn’t take slaves from prisons to be Bliora there were hundreds of training centers, and no one knew that he had the training. He had used a fake name, and it had been so long ago. They might take a slave from prison for the arena, but he doubted that he would have a chance at the arena on the possibility that he would earn his freedom.

Dean watched a faint blush creep into the angel’s face, and his worry intensified.

   “You are my, prize.” The angel nearly whispered not meeting his eyes. Part of Dean sizzled under the surface at the thought of having sex again. Especially with this angel in the bright light his eyes were an even brighter blue. His lips looked soft and inviting, and that innocent blush was the sexiest thing he had seen in a long time. Now he had been in prison so maybe his judgment was off, but Dean knew what a prize was and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be one.

Castiel watched Dean stiffen. Something he said had obviously made him angry

“Fuck that, you’re not my boss dick bag,” Dean said instantly without thinking

The angel frowned at him but didn’t seem to take him seriously Dean watched the angel reach into the glove compartment.

“I am sorry Dean, but I have plans for you.” He didn’t exactly sound upset that Dean wasn’t exactly willing.

Dean started to struggle, and the angel stuck him with a needle and pushed the plunger down. He felt his head start to swim. The goddamn angel drugged him. Dean tried to stay conscious, but lost the only thing he could see as his vision turned black was bright blue eyes.

Castiel regretted having to drug Dean, but it would be much easier to explain this to him at his home. A small part of him hoped that once he showed Dean his home and explained the situation that he would prefer it over prison, but he doubted it. Balthazar wasn’t exaggerating when he said that Dean had a reputation for being unbreakable. For a moment, Castiel feared that he would not be able to convince Dean to go along with his charade. It was a bit of a gamble if he could not prove that he had mastered Dean the Archangels would strip him of his rank, if he was not capable of forcing one human into submission than he was not fit to lead.

Castiel’s home was not substantial compared to Michael’s palace, but villa was the only word for it. When the angels conquered the earth they became the ruling party, thus most of the world’s wealth and resources fell into their control. He was proud of his home.

The villa's front stretched for more than 250 meters, parallel to the coastline. It was surrounded by a garden closed off by porticoes, a long sequence of columns, and an ample stretch of vegetable gardens, vineyards and woods down to a small harbor. The gardens included a gallery of busts and small marble and bronze statues. That was laid out between columns amid the open part of the garden and on the edges of the large swimming bath.

His home had four levels disposed in a series of terraces on the sloping site and was one of the most luxurious houses in the area. The villa also housed a collection of 80 sculptures of magnificent quality.

An atrium functioned as an entrance hall and a means of communication with the various parts of the house. The entrance opened with a columned portico on the sea side. The first peristyle, the columned porch surrounding a court with an internal garden, had ten columns on each side and a swimming bath in the center. The larger second peristyle could be reached by passing through a large tablinum, the reception room for the house master.

The real living and reception quarters were grouped around the porticoes and terraces, giving occupants ample sunlight and a view of the countryside and sea. In the living quarters, bath installations were brought towards the light and the library. The grounds included a large area of covered and uncovered gardens for walks in the shade or the warmth of the sun.

Castiel tried to keep his home warm and peaceful and unlike other angels he did not decorate his house with gold and precious jewels.

Part of him thought it was because it was because he felt guilty. This wasn’t his planet, but he tried hard to make it his home. His species aged differently than humans it had been nearly twenty-five years since the invasion, and he had slowly gotten used to being so far from everything he once knew, but he would never understand humans.

Like most angels Castiel had many human servants that helped run his household and unlike slaves he paid them for their services he was worried about introducing Dean into his household in part because he feared for his staff. Dean was bound to try and escape most likely sooner rather than later. He worried that they might be harmed, so he intended to keep Dean in his chambers at least for the time being until he was sure that Dean was not a threat.

Castiel called for a servant to deliver Dean to his room. Castiel planned to take a quick bath the scent of the prison clung to him, and he hopped to put Dean at ease with the fact that he did not plan to have sex with him and bathing with him would not help his cause.

***

Dean drifted slowly awake for the second time today. He wasn’t in the prison, which was the first fact he noticed, secondly he wasn’t tied up. He still had a collar and cuffs on all of his limbs, but they weren’t connected to any chains. He held still and listened he could hear the splash of water, but it sounded like it was in another room. He took stock of himself, he was only wearing the same worn pair of blue jeans he had on him when they tossed him in prison they were frayed to the point of no return with dozens of holes, paired with no shirt no and shoes it left him with limited options.

Slowly he opened his eyes. Angel bedrooms weren’t considered important in their culture mostly because they were just for sleeping in. The room was spartanly furnished with a large bed pressed up against the wall. Murals covered all the walls depicting scenes of winged creatures. Likely there was an anteroom nearby for servants. Dean was lying on a low sofa without any arms; divan that was the word Sammy had used for it.

He glanced over, and he could see the angel through the archway in the next room he was in a sunken bath that covered him up to his hips. He was soaping his shoulders and what he could reach of his back.. The angel was facing away from him so he could easily see the wing tattoos that marked him. They occupied the center of his back spreading out from his shoulder blades arching over and down the back of his arms. It marked him as a Seraph, a solider. Dean could see the sunlight glisten as the water rolled of him. The muscles in his back were tensed as he moved the cloth over him. Damn he had been in prison a long time. Dean was tempted to join him and help him with the hard to reach places, but he knew this would be a good opportunity for escape.

Silently he slid off the divan, not sure why the angel left him unbound. He assumed it was either a trap or carelessness and when was Dean ever lucky enough for carelessness. He surveyed the room there wasn’t anything that screamed weapon. He felt naked without a weapon honestly he would probably be fine with a gun in his hand naked as the day he was born rather than being stuck without a one. Hell he had been fighting angels since before he hit puberty he was as comfortable with a blade or a gun as he was in his own skin and while he was also proficient in hand to hand combat, but the angel had a distinct advantage since their species was quicker and stronger than humans.

He could try to attack the angel use the element of surprise to possibly over power it or he could opt for a tactical retreat and head for the door. Dean watched the angel. He didn’t seem like he noticed that he had woken up. From what he had seen of the angel he didn’t seem like such a dick like the rest of his species, but that didn’t mean anything. Angels were cold, heartless bastards. They had killed his mom; they killed his dad, and hell as much as he hoped it wasn’t true for all he knew they had killed his brother as well. Angels couldn’t be trusted. It was a mantra that he had heard his whole life.

Dean darted quickly across the room towards the door, and there was no response, it was locked which wasn’t surprising leaving option two off the table. He had to confront the angel if he wanted to escape. Dean found heavy metal stature of some angel on a little table by the window. He checked the weight. It felt heavy enough that he would be able to do some damage.

Castiel heard the human approach a second too late. He tried to doge the downward swing, but while he was faster than humans his reaction was still too slow to avoid being hit entirely. The bust clipped his temple sending a wave of white across his vision. He stumbled backwards as the water rushed over him.

Dean tossed away the ruined stature it was completely bent and twisted. The angel was face down in the water. Dean quickly spotted the angels clothing and fished out the keys from the pants. He started to leave, but something bothered him. Could angels drown? The angel was perfectly still beneath the water’s surface. Dean avoided glancing towards any of the fun parts of his anatomy and focused on his chest; he wasn’t breathing.

   “Son of a bitch.” He grumbled as his conscience screamed. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him. He was a monster; all angels were, but something about it felt wrong. Dean sighed heavily before wading into the pool soaking his jeans as he hauled the angel out of the water. Dean laid him out next to the bath and tried to ignore the fact that he looked spectacular all spread out like a treat. Dean laid his ear against the angel’s chest he could hear the steady heartbeat. He would live. Now Dean needed to get gone.

   Castiel woke up the sun was much higher in the sky, it was maybe an hour or two since he brought Dean home. His head ached, and he was sure that Dean was long gone. Part of him should have expected this. He groaned as he sat up perhaps if he was lucky this failure would go unnoticed by the archangels; he had yet to present Dean to them as his prize. It was possible that they would not know of this disaster. Shakily he stood up and staggered back into the room and there he was met by none other than Dean Winchester sitting on his bed. He looked sad.

He held up an amulet for his inspection.

“Where did you get this?” he asked in complete seriousness his voice was deadly. The amulet was worn using a black cord that easily went over the head neck of the wearer the pendant itself was a metallic golden color and depicted a head of a humanoid being with horns and tribal adornment.

Dean looked up at him his eyes full of sadness and anger. He was tense Castiel could see his fist clenched at his side his entire body ridged he spoke through gritted teeth.

“If you hurt my brother so help me god I will end you.”

Dean had been halfway out the door when he saw it sitting on the bedside table. Sam had given it to him when his was twelve years old one year for Christmas and Dean had kept it until six years ago, when he gave it back to Sam for good luck. When Sam was nineteen, he quit the rebellion. Sam and John had argued over many things over the years the big one being the best way to win the war against the angels. His Dad had always favored a definitive military victory while Sam assured them that the only way that humans would be able to win back their liberties was through legal battles for personal sovereignty.

Sam wanted to go to school to become a lawyer and champion human rights. John had felt that the idea was a weak way of dealing with the threat that fighting the angels with their political system was ineffective and cowardly.   It had ended with Sam taking off, to school without John’s approval. Dean had seen him once after that in his second year in college. He gave him the necklace as a good luck charm, two years after that Dean was arrested; he had no idea what happened to Sammy in the last four years.

           “You want to know what happened to your brother,” Castiel said simply ignoring Dean’s question.

Dean stood the angel was still weakened by the blow to the head; it wouldn’t be easy but if he had to he would beat the answer out of him.

“What do you know about Sammy?” Dean found himself asking

The angel frowned he looked genuinely sad

“Nothing yet; he disappeared four years ago, the same time you went into prison.” Dean turned to leave, in his current mood he would almost welcome it if the angel tried to stop him he was spoiling for a fight.

“, but I can help you find him if you make a deal with me.” The angel assured.

Dean paused, every fiber of his being was screaming at him not to trust this angel that angels couldn’t be trusted, that this wasn’t the first time he had made a deal for Sammy only to get screwed over in the end and yet there really wasn’t a choice this was for Sammy.

Dean turned to look at the angel “Yeah ok, what is it that you want?”

“I need you to be my slave.” The angel whispered.

Dean tensed. He had sworn that he would never let someone else take his choice away again. Why would the angel bargain with him for that?

Hell the angel could snap a shock collar on him and get a mostly obedient Winchester that way. Why did he want his consent? Dean wasn’t sure, but he knew that he had last seen Sammy wearing this necklace, and now this angel had it. Dean knew he couldn’t trust him, but maybe he could play along with him to see what he knew, just long enough to get better supplied and more information until he could find Sam on his own.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some how I double posted some things and I redid my chapters and I apparently it deleted some peoples comments sorry about that

“I’ll be your slave.” Dean finally said and although those were the words that Castiel wanted to hear. They felt foreign and wrong coming from Dean’s lips. Dean wasn’t any man’s lesser. Castiel was briefly distracted by the large amount of skin on display. Dean was casually leaning back on his bed he had one hand behind his back as a brace the other hovered at his side.   The lower halves of his jeans were darkened by water and higher up there were many frayed patches exposing brief glimpses of inner thigh.

“In name only,” Castiel assured Dean shot him a strange look.

“What am I too much for a stuffed shirt like you to handle?” he asked with a lascivious wink

Castiel was confused. He wasn’t sure how to take Dean’s remarks.

The angel gave him another quick tentative once over

“I do not require the services of a Bliora.” The angel murmured stiffly, but there was a slight blush on his cheeks. Yeah, the angel, may not need services, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about it. Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to take it as a compliment or an insult.

“If you follow me I will take you to your chambers.” He watched Dean visibly stiffen

“No chambers.” He ground out. “No special treatment.”

Castiel frowned. Given what he had heard of Dean he had not thought the luxuries would be a problem. The reputation regarding Dean Winchester held two very important facts. Dean was a skilled and highly resourceful hunter, well-versed with multiple types of firearms, but also proficient with most other weapons he might acquire. He is adept with brawling and knife fighting and has subdued several human assailants with ease and he had bested more powerful angels. He was a killing machine, and he had a lust for life.

There were many stories told about Dean’s love of woman, drink and sustenance. While he did not seem to require much in his life those things, his family and his vehicle remained constant. Castiel had thought Dean was a man of simple tastes perhaps, he was wrong.

“As my prize to offer you any less that my best accommodations would be demeaning to myself.”

“God damned angels.” Dean muttered the comment didn’t feel particularly addressed at him so Castiel ignored it.

Castiel gestured for him to follow him as he tried again to persuade Dean to obey even this one simple command.

“As my prize you will receive all that you want and desire, and when we have located your brother I will see that all his needs are met as well.”

Dean stood one arm still behind his back not quite crowding him, but easily asserting that he was the dominate one.

“You forgot to mention the part, were Sammy and I walk out the door.”

It seemed like at every turn Castiel was explaining the situation poorly.

“That cannot happen you agreed to be my prize the position is permeant.”

Dean whipped his hand forward he held a long, silver, double-edged dagger in his hand, one Castiel recognized as his own.

“On second thought, why don’t you just tell me where you got the necklace from and maybe I won’t have to gank you.”

Dean had gone through all the drawers in the room once he found the amulet trying to piece together how this angel could have Sammy’s amulet without prying it from him. All Dean had found was the weird angel blade and a strangely unanticipated amount of lube.

   Castiel took a step back he knew that Dean would try to kill him is he gave him another unsatisfying answer, what he was not sure was if he would succeed Castiel was easily stronger but a manic determination lit his eyes when he talked about his brother. If Dean believed that Castiel killed his brother the odds were not in his favor.

   “I took it off a demon.” Castiel admitted.

Dean cocked his head “What do you mean a demon?” He demanded

Castiel sighed “Just as angel is the closet word that translates for what we are to humans, demon is the closest word for what they are. The Babalon,     they are…” he grimaced “…were the enemy of angels, have been for centuries, until now. We are at an uneasy truce. The demon was talking about your brother I happened to overhear, her name is Ruby I took the amulet from her she claimed not to have stolen it herself, but rather received it from another demon.”

   Dean shifted gears quickly, there was a bad guy it just wasn’t necessarily this guy and he was fine with that, point him in the right direction and pull the trigger. The fact that the angels weren’t the only aliens, god even thinking the word still made him think about movies with anal probing E.T.s, in retrospect it wasn’t that weird that there was more of them.

“Which demon?” he asked simply. Castiel took a step closer. Dean jabbed lightly with the weapon not trying to hit him just yet.

“Hey now watch it Cas, I’m pretty sure you die just like the rest of us.”

   The angel’s scowled darkened Dean didn’t think the angeldid anything else

“Lilith.” He nearly growled.

The name didn’t ring any bells, but Dean filled it away for future reference in case he needed to shake down other angels, or demons for that matter he was equal opportunity.

“Did she say anything else?”   Castiel moved closer again the guy either had no personal boundaries or was not at all afraid of the knife or both.

“I am not of the habit of talking to demons.” He replied, like it was an answer.

Dean took it to mean no that either the demon said nothing else or Castiel didn’t ask. Dean gestured towards the door, “Ok asshat you first.”

   “I am afraid I can’t let you leave.” His voice deepened

“I’d like to see you stop me.” Dean sneered

“As you wish.” He said before rushing him. Dean had seen angels in battle before, it usually took five humans per angelto make a dent in one, but Castiel coming at him seemed to happen in the space of a blink. One moment he had the knife trained on the angelthe next Castiel had his hand around his throat. He hit the wall hard. The metal collar dug into his neck from the force of Castiels grip.

“I tried to have patience with you.” He ground out. “I knew this would take some adjustment.” Dean tried to break out of his grip, but the angel’s strength was down near terrifying. It was exactly what it was, inhuman. Dean felt the blackness creep at the edges of his vision.

“I tried to give you a choice; I thought it would make things easier for you. Now I see you are just as stubborn as the rest of your species.” Suddenly the angel released him he spun away frustrated.

“I tried to offer you a mutually beneficial arrangement and you refused.” His back was to Dean as he gasped letting air rush into his burning lungs.

“Son of a bitch.” He choked out

He spun back his rapid movement making Dean’s oxygen starved vision swim. While Dean knew he was physically larger than the angel with his position on the floor the angel towered over him. Dean had never been one to be easily intimidated, he had fought these monsters all his life and until this point never really felt a glimmer of doubt, this angel had felt different; maybe he really had been trying to be nice, because now honestly he scared the crap out of him and that didn’t happen. Dean struggled to stand not one to allow his own weakness to show. He didn’t have to words to back up his false confidence, but he advanced on the angel to look him the eyes and was struck again by how blue they wore. Castiel took the human’s approach exactly as it was meant as he watched the challenge in the green eyes. Dean may know that he was outmaneuvered in this fight, but he would still not concede. It was a losing battle but he knew Dean would still fight it. Castiel would win eventually, but if Dean wanted a battle of wills they would have it.

“So be it, your answer is irrelevant, you will be my prize I do not need your permission only obedience, you should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in.”

His face was impossibly close to his own Castiel could see the flecks in Dean’s eyes, the dusting of freckles across his face, the slight stubble. It was a battle that Castiel would win if he kept focus and Dean made that difficult.

The angel was suddenly gone from his space. Dean watched as the angelstormed out of the room. “Take him to his chambers.” He heard the angeltell someone.

A cute brunette wearing a black Ramones tank and black jeans walked in the door and gave him a dirty look. Maybe he was supposed to recognize her, he didn’t but that didn’t mean anything. She was looking at him like he just got shit all over her nice carpet. He heard a loud click as she closed the door behind her. The angelhad locked them in.

The brunette had a look about her that screamed Dean’s type. She had a sway when she moved that showed confidence and the attitude to back it up. “Dean Winchester. To hell and back. Aren’t you a lucky duck?”

“That's me.” He replied aiming for cocky, keeping a confident smile he didn’t really feel on his face. She didn’t seem to appreciate his attitude. She placed a hand on her hips.

“So you get to just stroll out of the Pit, huh? Tell me. What makes you so special?” she almost sounded hurt.

Dean flashed her his same confident smile.

“I like to think it's because of my perky nipples.” He teased before shrugging under her serious look “I don't know. Wasn't my decision, you’ll have to ask your boss, master whatever you call him”

She didn’t say anything at first, just raised a brow at him. “Pamela Barnes,” she said extending her hand for a shake. She gave him a quick glance over. “I need you to come with me.”

“Yeah well I need a beer, a bacon cheese burger, and to get laid, but you don’t hear me saying anything.” She just narrowed her eyes before turning and walking out the door opposite of the one she entered he had assumed it was a closet.

She expected him to follow her, part of him wanted to say fuck her and just stay there, but Dean was never one to let a lady down.

She didn’t look back to assure herself that he was behind her. They didn’t go very far. The door way led to a small hallway that with two more doors. “This one is my room.” She told him pointing to it. “Knock if you ever need anything.” Dean opened his mouth to make a joke when she scowled at him again. “And don’t need anything. This one is yours.” She finished pointing to the room at the end. Dean felt uneasy. He didn’t want to accept the angel’s room but he didn’t really have a choice there wasn’t anywhere else you could go. “There is a fresh change of close waiting for you inside, and if you want a bath give there is a small peristyle with one off the main chamber, that you can use anytime Casiel isn’t in his chambers.” Dean was about to argue when she spoke again. “And don’t argue with me you’ve been in prison for four years take a god damn bath.” He knew he was staring but it seemed like she knew what he was going to say before he even said it. She just arched a brow. “Dinner in an hour.” She said before she opened her door and slammed it shut loudly.

“Well fuck you too.” He groused. He knew that he shouldn’t do what they wanted, but part of it made sense. It would be nice to take a bath that was more than a bucket of water being sloshed at him once a month and some new clothes might help him over all. He wouldn’t get very far in what he wore. He sighed and opened the door to his room. It was even simpler than the Castiel’s room there was a twin bed along the wall a dresser and a desk. White towels and a change of clothing were folded on the bed. The clothing turned out to be a simple black T-Shirt and faded blue jeans. His missed his own clothes, his dads old beat up leather jacket especially. He glanced down at the amulet around his neck. At least he had this back and it would last him till he found his brother. He couldn’t believe that he was dead he couldn’t go on in a world where his whole family was dead and he was some angels slave.

At least for now he needed to believe that Sammy was alive and that he could find him. The angelwas a bit of a problem there, but Dean wouldn’t let it stop him he would escape eventually it just might take longer than he like didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the luxuries just a little bit. He had access to a bath and his own bed, that was something, as long as he didn’t get used to it, it couldn’t be too bad.

He grabbed the towels and clothing and went to take a bath. The Courtyard was maybe the size of his bedroom with walls twice as high as he could easily climb not to mention a metal grate coved the ceiling but the sun easily filtered through. The sun felt amazing; he was pale from his time in prison it wouldn’t hurt to catch a few rays. Bushes liked all four walls splashing color across the otherwise white surface. When he hit Castiel over the head he hadn’t looked that closely at the bath. It was a large square sunken style roman bath that he had seen in the movies. A spout and two handles at one end controlled the water another seemed to have soap maybe Dean wasn’t sure he let the water run pushing the lever a few times before he realized it was something that filled the tub with bubbles. Dear god he was taking a bubble bath. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He took off the old jeans he was tempted to burn them, but settled for tossing them across the courtyard. The water was a little too hot, but he sunk down into it any way the slight burn felt awesome. Dear god he needed this. He soaked in the water until it grew cold before he bothered to do a quick scrub. He washed his body and hair and he felt truly clean for the first time in forever. He half expected the angel to return but he must have really pissed him off because there was a knock at the door and someone came in with a tray leaving it by the door before dean could reach him. Suspiciously Dean wrapped a towel around him and checked out the tray. It was the fancy kind he had seen in movies. He lifted the lid and now he nearly did cry there was an honest to god bacon cheese burger underneath with a beer and a slice of apple pie. Dean didn’t even bother to put on the clothing they gave him he sat quickly down on the divan and proceeded to scarf down the meal. It was fucking paradise after four years of prison.

Once he ate he got dressed and went back to his room. He instantly chastised himself for calling it his room. He lay on the bed and was instantly rewarded by the soft contours of memory foam. It wasn’t long till he was asleep the last thought he had before he passed out was that maybe he should have been more cautious eating food given to him by strangers.

Castiel entered the room again when he was sure enough time had passed for Dean to have eaten the food. He was asleep on his bed. He looked younger in his sleep somehow more innocent if that was possible. The lines under his eyes weren’t as visible and the darkness that hovered on the edges of his personality was less dark.

Part of him hated the idea of forcing Dean, still he knew there wasn’t a choice. Castiel took the collar he had created for him. It was a metallic shock collar, but inside it was a GPS tracker, when Dean left the property it would deliver an electric shock that should incapacitate him. He also had a remote that had the ability to shock him. If somehow he was able to disable that function there was a GPS inside that would help Castiel find him. Tomorrow he would start the basic training once he was sure that Dean could keep a civil tongue he would take him to meet the archangels.   He only prayed that it would be sooner rather than later. Once he was able to establish that Dean was his prize he could send Dean off to his country estate where he would be a problem with no one and would be able to live with his brother in peace.

Not to mention Dean was very distracting, his attraction to Dean took him completely by surprise not that Castiel hadn’t ever felt attraction before he just never had the occasion to do anything about it. Not that he could do anything about it with Dean, he was a slave and he knew he couldn’t use him. Right?


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidently double posted some chapters and I tried to delete it and lost some of your comments. I am so sorry about that. feel free to comment again if you are interested. Learning how to work this system.

Dean was fucking tired of waking up with a drug-induced headache. He never trusted the angels before, but apparently he had been too easily drawn in by food. That was quickly going to end. The breakfast they served him was a Denver omelet with a side bacon, but he didn’t touch it. Even though, the bacon smelled like heaven, enough to make his mouth water.

The angel that he thought was so nice turned out to be a fucking dick just like the rest of them. He woke up with another collar on. This one felt heavier than the last, and he was almost positive it had the ability to shock the living hell out of him at will. When he first got captured before they transferred him to hell they kept one of these beauties on him twenty-four seven and Dean could attest that the hurt like a bitch and a half.

   That was what he got for thinking that maybe one angel in a million was a decent kind of person. They weren’t people; he needed to remember that. They had no sympathy for lesser beings i.e. Dean and if it weren’t for Sammy Dean would have tried to leave already even if the collar gave him a shock from hell. Dean knew as much as he originally liked the angel he couldn’t trust him.

            Pamela only had good things to say about him which only made things more confusing.

She said the angel took her in when an ex-boyfriend beat the ever loving shit out of her his name was Jesse something. The angel found her near death and took her in, fed her liquids until she was well enough that she could take care over herself. Dean didn’t buy it. The woman was obviously down with a case of angel love, and bad. She had clammed up when he tried to get her to tell him anymore about Cas.

Dean didn’t buy the saintly Angel BS that Pamela was trying to sell him. Angels didn’t give a single damn about humans other than if they kept their boots clean.

   Dean was currently up shit creek without a paddle; the angel was bound and determined to keep him as a slave. Alright, if that was what he wanted, he would get a full dose of what Dean was like when someone tried to tell him what to do. Sure he listened when his dad said jump, but Castiel wasn’t so lucky. That winged son of a bitch was in for some real fun. Dean just hoped at some point he could start trusting the food or get the hell gone because it was just afternoon and already his stomach was protesting to the don’t trust the angel's routine.

He took the small night table in the angel’s room and tried to use it as a battering ram to knock down the door. He got a large dent as his reward, but no outward signs of the door collapsing. So he gave up on escape for now; he could be patient it was hard, but he could do it.

While he was waiting for the angel to return he spent most of the time trying to gain his strength back, in the little courtyard with the bath. It was the only place he felt like he could breathe. Mostly it was just push-ups and pull-ups on the bars in the ceiling. Maybe he couldn’t escape, but he could be ready. In prison, he had been able to keep up a fairly regular workout routine. While not as much as he was used to as a solider, it was better than nothing. Being trapped within those small quarters, waiting to get tortured again whenever they remembered he was there, it was either move or go insane. Here it almost felt the same except here he had fresh air and sunlight. Dean was loath to admit it, but it was a marked improvement.

It wasn’t until maybe around two that the angel finally decided to grace him with his presence. He was dressed in the robes that angels wore when they went to court. Maybe this angel was a judge. He almost hoped that was the case he had always wanted to beat the hell out of one.

Castiel looked at Dean Winchester and felt the weight of his day increase. Using the collar had been Balthazar’s idea, and he had instantly regretted it, but he knew no other way to ensure that Dean would obey. Castiel needed a prize that would represent his strength as a leader, but also his ability to think differently than his peers he was not a man to be easily conquered. If the council of archangels felt that he was able to master a difficult prize like Dean, they would leave him in peace. They would no longer question his judgment. He would have shown mastery over a difficult charge and ended the victor.

            He wanted to be a good master; he wanted to be kind and generous. The thought of shocking Dean into submission make a sick feeling creep inside him, but he knew a Winchester would not surrender any other way. Other than finding Sam Winchester and threatening his life physical discomfort was the only way to make Dean cooperate.

The Demon Ruby had mentioned more about Sam, but he doubted it would be information that Dean would appreciate. Castiel truthfully did not know where Sam was, but he suspected that he belonged to Lilith as the same as Dean belonged to him now. There was no proof yet, but he intended to honor his word. He would find Sam Winchester and reunite him with his brother, regardless of the consequences. He had made a promise he knew while less technologically advanced humans were not an inferior species; there were many things that they did better even than his kind, compassion being one of those things.

Dean watched the angel wishing he had his knife back. Maybe if he attacked quickly he could take him out before he shocked him.

“So Cas, come to serenade me?” He taunted.

Cas just looked serious. “Dean.” He simply replied in greeting.

Dean wasn’t sure how to respond. He was angry, justifiably so. The Angel was hiding something from him. Maybe about his brother maybe about something else he wasn’t really sure. What he was sure of, was that the angel had already drugged him twice and

He had slapped a shock collar on him like it wasn’t a big deal, like Dean was a bad dog that kept straying from the property.

“What do you want?” Dean asked on guard

Castiel simply stared at him in that intense way angels did, which felt like he was looking into his soul and past him at the same time.

“Respect,” He answered simply

Dean just laughed.

“Yeah, if you want that from me you need to get your priorities straightened out.”

“Not from you.” The angel muttered, looking away. Dean noticed that the door was partially open if he made a run for it he could make it all the way out.

He wasn’t exactly worried about the shock collar. Yeah, it would hurt like a son of a bitch, but Dean knew it wouldn’t stop him. Not if he wanted to escape. There was very little that would stop him long term where his family was concerned, except he had already failed them once.

It was nearly four years about that his dad went to prison, and if he had a choice Dean wouldn’t have let him go. John had chained him to a tree and threw the keys to the Impala. By the time, Dean had gotten free and managed to get to the rendezvous point John had already turned himself over. He wanted so bad to disregard all the rules his dad ever taught him and storm in guns blazing and rescue him last second, but a suicide mission wouldn’t have saved his dad.

John had turned himself over for him. Dean had made some stupid mistakes; wound up getting spotted the angels had ambushed him. They beat the living tar out of him, but he had managed to escape. He hadn’t gotten far before they had surrounded the town where he was staying and threatened to kill everyone inside unless he gave himself up. John had turned himself in instead. The angels didn’t seem to care as long as they had a Winchester as a public symbol.

   Dean had been furious at the idea of his dad giving up and letting the angels take him because Dean fucked up. It was the worst thing he could think of, and it ate him up at night, knowing that his dad died because he couldn’t keep a low profile that he couldn’t cover his tracks well enough and wound up exposing them all. Dean never heard of his dad while in was in prison. Once an angel told him he died in the arena, but Dean didn’t know for sure, but he had turned around and done nearly the same thing for Sammy.

“If you want respect from your angel buddies you had better pick another slave,” Dean warned him.Castiel shook his head. “I am afraid I need you; I need an unbreakable man.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Flattery? That's your angle. Weird way to treat a slave”

Castiel turned away. “I didn’t want to treat you as a slave; I wanted a partnership, but you refused.”

“You wanted to me to pretend to be your slave while being your slave; it doesn’t work that way.” Dean had to admit that the angel seemed a bit confused, but that didn’t mean he was going to let him off easy.

            Castiel had orders from heaven to find a prize and represent his people proudly, more importantly he had orders from heaven to choose Dean Winchester. The fact that he sympathized with humans was all that kept him from truly treating Dean as a pet and. If he had been any other angel, the comfort of a human would not have mattered. He would not have gone searching for information about Sam Winchester to use as leverage. He would have simply beaten Dean into submission, but in all honestly he didn’t want Dean’s submission not if he had to steal it.

 

“ Look, Cas you say you want to help me find my brother that you want to do me a favor, but you keep drugging me and being a total dick.”

Castiel waited for the human to continue. After several moments of tense silence, he finally spoke up. “Yeah, that was it; there wasn’t anything else there, because there is no upside to this.”

“Dean?” The angel was staring at him again with those overly intense blue eyes.

Dean rolled his own eyes at the pleading tone in the angel’s voice. The fucker had no right to ask him to be anything but difficult. Yeah, sure, he took him out of Hell and Dean was grateful that, it didn’t mean he gave the angel the right to treat him like shit. He sighed heavy angels weren’t supposed to be dicks. He could still remember his mom tucking him in at night. How she told him angels were watching over him. Even now it was strange to think how comforting the thought was to him as a child. That these all powerful beings of goodness and light were watching out for him. Then angels showed up and wrecked it. He pushed against the memories before they could fully surface; he didn’t think he could relive her death.

   Dean wasn’t sure what Cas was trying to ask him. Was he asking for his submission? Dean knew it was the kink with angels. Something they had stressed in his training as a Bliora, which he had resisted at every turn. Oh, he had absorbed the information, but the role he found himself naturally gravitating towards was not the one they wanted him to. He wasn’t submitting to any fucking angel. A guilty twinge prickled at the back of his mind he ignored it, and it wasn’t the same thing.

The human was frowning. It was the first time he had seen him express anything, but cocky bravado. It was puzzling.

“I’m sorry Dean; I have no choice.”

“Fuck you man, there is always a choice.” Dean didn’t know why he wanted the angel to understand, other than the fact he was his prisoner. Yeah, if he were really lucky again, maybe he could take the angel by surprise like he had in the bath and make a run for it, but he knew that was a Hail Mary pass.

“Limlal training starts today.” The angel said finally before staring at the ground.

Dean didn’t have anything like Sammy’s ability with languages, but he had picked up a little Enochian here and there. Mostly swear words. Still he knew there was a pecking order among the slaves. Limlal was a prize, the showcase slave that the angels took around and paraded as some status symbol. They had the quote easiest life, mostly because they weren’t expected to do anything, but look pretty. Bilora were the sex slaves, sure the angels tried to dress it up as companion slaves, but as his training would attest to friendly conversation wasn’t their main goal. Then there was Fafen they were the regular slaves, they did varying degrees of hard work, but really were more treated like indentured servants. They had an amount of trust from the angels that the other slaves didn’t. Finally, there were the Loncho, the labor slaves, hostile prisoners that were dangerous, but not bad enough to toss in the arena to die quickly or prison to die slowly.

The levels didn’t really mix much. Except that sometimes Bilora moved up in the world and became, Limlal and Limlal were meant to be the most obedient of all. Fuck that, Dean was nobody’s trophy wife.

“I won’t be, your Limlal, your Bilora or your goddamned pet,” Dean growled through clenched teeth. His language coming from Dean was strange, even though he butchered the pronunciation; it still felt familiar in an odd way. Still he needed Dean to obey while he wouldn’t be enacting the training himself he still needed to transport Dean there.

Cas hung his head and wouldn’t meet his eyes. Dean knew what was coming before it even happened. The shock dropped him to his knees. It hurt more than he remembered it did. The shooting pain started at his neck and descended though his whole body. “Son of a bitch,” Dean ground out. His hands flew to his neck trying, in vain to remove the source of the pain.

The pain only lasted a moment, but the threat was there. If he stepped out of line, Castiel would shock him again. He felt a dull tingling ache through his entire body   Careful to not betray outward signs of pain, Dean slowly stood. He was slightly taller than the angel; he used it to his advantage. He stood toe to toe, staring him in the eyes, the angel hadn’t moved, maybe because he was too surprised to react. There was a stunned almost admiration reflected in his eyes, but also a lingering doubt.   He gritted his teeth prepared for another shock. “Greater men than you have tried and failed.”

Castiel knew that he should just shock him again, that Dean would fall unconscious and that would be the end of it. He would take him to the trainer, and it would be over, he likely wouldn’t see Dean again until after the initial training. At some point he would need to take over the training, loyalty to the owner was part of the mastery, but Dean was a special case. Castiel did not want to be a part of the things that might be part of breaking him;

“Please.” Castiel couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. He was very close; it was confusing. Castiel had noticed that humans tended to observe a certain amount of distance between them and that Dean was closer than was customary. “Please what?” Dean asked with a dark chuckle.

“Trust you?”

Castiel couldn’t avoid him his eyes snapped up to see the earnest look of uncertainty on Dean Winchester’s face. He was searching his own face, and he felt such guilt for dragging him into this, but it took a righteous man, and Dean was it.

“Yes, this is for your best interest.”   Dean stiffened, and any vulnerability vanished. “Not a chance.” The intensity of his stare nearly made Cas flinch away. “Don’t you bullshit me, Cas this is about you. You want something, you think I can give it to you, so you blackmail me with information about my brother, but you keep me outa the loop. This isn’t a partnership, don’t kid yourself. You aren’t asking me anything; you’re telling me, so either man up and admit it or just fucking get out of my way.”

Dean was halfway out the door when the angel called out to him.

“I freed you from hell for two reasons, one selfish, one for the greater good.”

Dean knew he should just walk out the door; forget he had ever met this angel, maybe find Bobby and see if they could find Sammy together. He knew he couldn’t trust the angel, but part of him needed to know. Out of all the other damned souls trapped in hell, why did they save him, someone who by all accounts didn’t deserve saving. He grudgingly turned back towards the angel he stood in the same spot his hand clenched in a fist at his side, his eyes downcast.

“Why'd you do it?” he asked finally through gritted teeth half afraid of what the answer might be. He knew he wasn’t special; he wasn’t a righteous man like Cas had called him. He wasn’t anything but a very simple uncomplicated man. He wanted his family safe, happy and if he were very lucky he would get to be there with them.

The angel tilted his head and studied him. Like he could see through his façade and see everything, he was feeling before finally speaking.

“Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.”


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: graphic depictions of torture in this chapter. I’ll warn you again before you get to it. If you want to skip the section I’ll make sure to briefly summarize in the following chapter.

Cas wasn’t sure what he expected, when he confessed the truth to Dean, but he knew it wasn’t amusement.

Dean was doubled over with laughter. After several unflatteringly long moments Dean stopped pulling himself back to his full height and wiped a tear from his eye.

“God?” he asked still chuckling darkly to himself. “For some reason I think your translation of God and mine are different.” His words were bitter and his tone harsh.

It seemed like he was insulted. Cas frowned. He was proficient in all earth languages. It was a requirement before he began this assignment that he absorbed all relevant information they had gained about Earth culture. Admittedly he was rustier on some languages than others his understanding of Belarusian was only passable, and while he had learned Quenya from books when he arrived on earth, he had yet to run across a native speaker. Since his station was in North America, he had a firm grasp on English, Spanish French, Danish and Portuguese languages. The connotations of a divinely infallible supreme ruler matched his understanding of their leader Oiad. He knew for a fact that the closest cognate for the ruler of Oadriax, his home planet, was an English word god.

Oiad was the title of the benevolent yet firm ruler of their home world Dean’s belief wasn’t important; he had his orders, and he would obey. As much as it troubled him he knew what he had to do.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered and meant it, but if he had to break one righteous man to save his people then so be it. He shocked Dean, Deans eyes flew wide out of pain rather than surprise, and he flinched clenching before he dropped to the ground. Castiel did not want to risk transporting him himself and had made arrangements for guards from the training center to collect Dean. The agents would arrive soon to deliver him to the trainer. Dean Winchester was pivotal to the plans of the Angelic Empire; Archangels sent information back to Oadriax on a weekly basis, so it was not surprising that Oiad knew about Dean. Castiel wasn’t privy to the details of Oiad’s plan, moments before he left to go to hell and find a slave; He received a coded message that simply ordered him to pull Dean from hell. He never questioned the order.

Castiel watched as they dragged Dean away he felt a twinge; he didn’t want them to take him, he knew very little of what they did to slaves to break them still he knew it would hurt, but he would not disobey.

Obeying orders without question had been ingrained in him from a very young age. When he was five he was removed from his home and placed into an education center, like every angelic citizen he was taught to believe that blood relatives were no more important than any other citizen. All Div were his brothers and sisters. He was taught that loyalty for the angelic empire came before all other loyalties. Relationships with slaves were, purely physical. Relationships with his fellow Div were purely for procreation. His only goal and desire should be for the angelic state. He was also educated in the ways of science, math, and history. His education came with very harsh penalties for being disloyal. He had seen children’s, tongues cut from their mouths for an errant comment, about missing their mothers. Thumbscrews were uses religiously in the classroom for eliciting better focus, daydream or impart a wrong answer they twisted the screws.

His impressment into the Angelic Order began at twelve, all angelic citizens joined and from that point on; his life was devoted to the Angelic Empire. When soldiers enrolled in the service to the state, they swore a military oath known as the sacramentum originally to the Oiad and the interests of the Empire, later to their general. The sacramentum stated that they would fulfill the conditions of service on pain of punishment or death. Discipline in the army was extremely rigorous, and the general had the power to execute any soldier under his command summarily. The other punishments ranged from additional duties fines and reductions of rations to floggings, beatings and death. For disobedience, desertion or dereliction of duty, the soldier would be stoned or beaten with cudgels, in front of the assembled troops, by his fellow soldiers. If they survived, they would be demoted in rank and rewards with a blackened brand across their arm so that all would know.

In exceptional cases, of group disobedience where extreme military discipline was required for officers to punish mutinous or cowardly soldiers a cohort was selected for punishment by decimation. The soldiers were divided into groups of ten; each group cast lots, and the soldier on whom the lot fell was executed by his nine comrades by stoning or clubbing. The remaining soldiers were given limited rations and forced to sleep outside of the encampment.

It was a grueling period of his life, but it taught him all he needed to know in life. It was his purpose, to serve the angelic order there was no other way. It had been a long time since he first received this assignment he was, 10,000 years old, and most of his life had been dedicated to traveling to earth.  

The Angelic Empire spanned the cosmos. His planet orbited an orange dwarf star infinite light years from earth. In truth, he had never seen his home planet since he was born on one of the colonies, Vls, on the outer reaches of the Angelic empire. Still tales of its mild climate where life is easiest held heavy court over what he could remember of his childhood. His mother had heard the stories from her father, who heard the stories from his. Oadriax was a mild planet, with no snow or heavy storms, and the Ocean sent cooling breezes inland. All year there were flowers of gold constantly blazing, some from splendid trees on land, while others were nurtured on the water these bore honey-sweet fruit flourishing thrice a year.

It was a veritable paradise, which was why the war between Div and the Babalon, began. The Babalon’s were from a binary star system; their planet orbited a yellow-white dwarf star 20% more massive than the earth’s sun with the secondary star being a red dwarf. Their planet suffered from the intense heat of their closet sun. They adapted to the intense light by developing a semi-translucent black nictitating membrane across their eyes.

While they originally had a sufficient atmosphere, the ozone layer protecting them from most of the harmful UV light, photoevaporation stripped the planet. Over time, the intense UV radiation from their primary sun caused damage to their DNA molecules, warping them, at first disrupting their genetic code, then compromising the integrity of their body tissues and destroying cellular structures. With the advent of advanced immunotechnology, they were abled slow down the process of the decay and found short term solutions by making extensive use of transplantation and organ piracy.

The nearest habitable planet was Oadriax, the initial war between the Div and Babalon was bloody and devastating for both sides, so they agreed on a compromise. Rather than fight each other directly, they made an agreement only to fight with Efafafes or vessels. They would conquer other planets and use their resources to fight each other and until the ultimate winner would be decided they would share the planet.

From then on there was a constant desire for expansion traveling through space, took thousands of years or more to reach destinations. The Div adapted the Babalon’s immunotechnology as a way of rejuvenating their bodies, allowing them to travel for generations, coupled with their already long lifespans their species entire goal was traveling through space conquering eligible species.

The Babalon had expanded with them. Each jumping from world to world, expanding the territory, moving further and further from their home planet.The Babalon were rendered sterile because of the damage done to their DNA. While they were able to combat the breakdown by growing tissues and organs in labs, they turned to cloning as a way to continue their species. With the same damage to their DNA, the next generation suffered from the same affliction. The process of continually cloning only led to more problems.

Until they realized that preserving the consciousness and growing entirely new bodies in the lab was a way that they could essentially live forever. They found a way to map and transfer their consciousness from body to body. While the new bodies would eventually decay as well, with the preservation of the consciousness it no longer mattered. Thus, they became fluid hopping from one body to the next as they traveled.

Receiving any news from Oadriax was very rare; the distance from there to the outer recesses of the empire was extreme. It was nearly impossible for his generation to return home; he would never see Oadriax himself it was beyond the Milky Way galaxy. A hundred generation separated him and the first group of angels to leave the planet on their unending imperial conquest.

The orders to move forward continued; They had been on earth for twenty-six years, and in that time they had received no further orders from their home planet, until now.

Dean was somehow important to his people, and Castiel would put aside his natural sympathies. He did not want to cause Dean humiliation or pain, but his feelings did not matter. He needed to remember that; it was a lesson that he thought he learned a long time ago.  

Even Balthazar did not know why he chose Dean, he would likely mock him for blindly obeying orders, and he would doubt the validity of orders. It had been a very long time since anyone had received a direct order from the Oiad themselves. Or even an order from any of the other archangels not on earth.

Many like Balthazar had grown complacent, enjoying the frivolity of rulers of the earth rather than seeing it as another acquisition for the empire. They saw themselves as rulers rather than regents; they believed they acted with impunity. Castiel knew his place; he knew better than question orders. Castiel had paid the price for his disobedience once.

           A long time ago, Cas had thought himself in love with an angel named, Haziel. He was a serene angel; he was loyal generous and kind. He was beautiful, all lean grace and pale skin. Bright cerulean blue eyes and the palest cornsilk blonde mop of hair. Haziel, was a Malakhim, a messenger, not a solider. Castiel knew better than to encourage him. They were both very young, but he was a superior officer and a few decades older he should have been the voice of reason, but Haziel had been sweet and charming. The Div were not strictly against relationships with the same sex, but they felt that the indulgence was better left with slaves. All Div were required at some point to procreate, and same sex relationships among their people were discouraged severely as it did not lead to children.

While their affair had been nothing more than innocent exchanges, he had allowed himself to grow fond of him when he learned that Haziel had ties with Lucifer he kept the information to himself. Lucifer broke ranks with the angelic order in an effort to gain control for himself. The fight was still the bloodiest battle of his life. To this day Castiel wasn’t sure why, the soft soul he knew was filled with enough hatred to join Lucifer’s revolt. On the battlefield they had crossed paths, the ground had been soaked in blood, Haziel had looked so small and foreign in his armor. He wasn’t a warrior; Castiel had let him go. Castiel’s punishment was a public flogging. Haziel was sentenced, death along with the rest of Lucifer’s followers.  

His intervention had only ended causing Haziel more pain in the end; they had him hung, drawn and quartered. Lucifer was imprisoned for life. Castiel could still see the pain on his face. Hear him begging for his life, then begging for death. From that day forward, Castiel knew that his only loyalty was to the angelic state. By ignoring his duty, he made Haziel suffer. If he had told the council of his association with Lucifer sooner perhaps, he would have saved him from such a brutal death.

If he allowed himself to become weak with Dean, he would be sending him to the same brutal death. While he did not consider himself they type to enjoy domination over a human that was the only way to keep Dean safe.

**Trigger warning: graphic depictions of torture in following section**

***

“Dean Winchester, Hello again” the high nasal voice crooned.

Dean’s head ached, but something felt very familiar. The voice sounded like it came from the bottom of a well. Muffled yet right in front of him at the same time.

He shook himself trying to get his bearings. He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it the intense light focused on him sent thousands on shooting bolts of pain flying about in his head.

His wrists and ankles were bound, and yet somehow the fact surprised him. Hadn’t he left hell? His entire body felt stiff, and his brain felt like he had been hit by a million volts.

“Wakey Wakey, it’s not any fun if you sleep through it all.” His heart suddenly lurched into his throat. He knew that voice.

His eye snapped open again; a tall, thin, silhouette stood before the light blotting some of it out, he knew what the man would look like with his sunken dispassionate blue eyes sharp cheekbones bearded face and merciless grin, he knew him well he recognized him from his nightmares.

“Alastair,” he ground out trying to hide the fear in his voice.

The man sneered and if it was possible it made him seem more twisted.

“I thought you wouldn’t recognize me, but then again we were so close… in hell.”

Dean repressed a shudder. Out of all the tortures he received in hell Alastair was the worst. He wasn’t an angel; he had inferred that from the several insulting things he said about them. Dean would love to say he wasn’t human mostly because the things he had done in the past were defiantly inhuman.

“When you left hell I was so sad.” He said quietly with feigned emotions.

The light was dimmed enough he could see his face as He walked in front of him with half a smile.

“No one is quite as fun to torture as a Winchester. You are made of tougher stuff.” He sneered again that twisted grin that wracked his heart.

           “I was nearly despondent, but then I saw that your new master needed a trainer, and I convinced the orderlies to bring you back to hell instead. I thought this would give a chance to truly get to know one another after all torture bares the soul of both parties.”

Dean felt the panic rise in his throat. Did Castiel know that he had sent him to this madman? Almost as if he could read his mind Alastair shook his head.

“Don’t worry your new master has no idea who he has given you to, nor of all the things I plan to do to you. So I doubt we will be interrupted. I can’t kill you, but I plan to come close more than once.”

Dean tried to fight, but his hands were tied behind his back and suspended in the air by a rope attached to wrists. The position made it easy for any struggle to dislocate his shoulders.

“I’ve looked into your planets history, a nasty, brutish lot you are. I thoroughly enjoyed reading about centuries old torture techniques; I will give you this you certainly are a creative people.”  

“Yeah thanks,” Dean muttered trying to keep the fear at bay. Alastair watched him as he revealed the metal tray before, Dean had been here before, He had seen Alastair’s toys before; he had felt their bite many times. He had the scars to prove it.

“We have six weeks together” Alastair jeered. Dean knew he would be hard pressed to maintain his resolve. “I see no reason to rush it.”

He tried to harden his resolve. Alastair was just beginning; he took a thin blade and ran it across his chest and arms slicing thin bloody lines, before salting the wounds. It stung, but it was by no means unbearable.

Next he used the lead sprinkle which was essentially a ladle on the end of the handle. The top half of the sphere could be removed, and the lower half was filled with molten metal, boiling oil, boiling water, pitch or tar. The perforated top half was then re-attached. Shaking or flicking the sprinkler towards the victim showered him or her with the boiling contents of the ladle. Fear did him no good, but he couldn’t keep back the emotion. Alastair chose to use boiling oil because while painful, the effects were still less than compared to silver.

He was only just beginning and he wanted Dean to know it. He fully intended to draw out the torture as long as possible. While the stinging drops of oil seared his flesh, he knew that it would only escalate. It hurt, but he was only just entering the world of pain. The smell of his burning flesh caked the inside of his nose. Till every time, he breathed it felt like he could taste his blood.

Alastair continued to burn him with hot pokers, unlike the torture he had experienced in Hell this torture had no purpose, but to break him. The make him forget everything else, but the pain. The hot pokers seared his skin making him cry out. He hated that the pain was to the point where he had little control over his reactions. The lead sprinkler filled with molten metal scorched little holes of pain across his entire body.

Alastair continued to stab him repeatedly the hot pain became commonplace. The pain was nearly constant; it varied to different degrees sometimes it was downright unbearable. Dean wished that he could tell Alastair something that would make him stop that he knew something anything that would make it end, but it wasn’t going to end. He attached a vice to his feet except it had small metal spikes attached to the bottom that tore his sole as he twisted the screws that bought the crushing pressure against all the bones in his feet. He would like to say he stayed stoic and refused to cry out, but the pain was mind-numbing all sense of dignity fled. The rack was worse; the twisting and the stretching till his joints popped out of their sockets.

Sometimes he used knives to carve him up, other times he used a device that looked like claws attached to his hand. This instrument looked very much like a cat's paw with very long and sharp claws. It was used to rip brutally in his flesh to because of the dimension of the claws; muscles and bones were no obstacles. Alastair would rip to the point that his organs and viscera would be exposed to the world only to stop and carefully suture and tie his body back into place. Alastair was careful, to keep from ripping vital organs or arteries. It was clear he didn’t want Dean dead he just wanted him to suffer.   He was careful to keep him hydrated, full of nutrients, and antibiotics by keeping an IV in his arm. Dean wasn’t sure how much time passed.

When Alastair decided that he was done for the day he left him with a gift, the heretics Fork. The heretic's fork was a torture device, consisting of a length of metal with two opposed bi-pronged forks as well as an attached strap. The device was placed between the breast bone and throat just under the chin and secured with a leather strap around his neck. If he fell asleep and changed his posture, the metal prongs would dig into his flesh. The device was conceived as a form of sleep deprivation torture.

Sometimes Alastair didn't even need to be present for the torture to continue. He would torture another person outside of Dean’s vision because he could hear the other man screaming. He would chain Dean to the ground his hands spread out at his sides and wrap his entire body in razor wire, so that when he moved he was in pain, when he breathed he was in pain, to the point that when he slept, if he could, the pain polluted his dreams, wracking him with nightmares of horrible dogs ripping into him with their claws biting off chunks of flesh.

It hurt to the point that he stopped caring, about anything and everything all that mattered was getting from moment to moment. The pain became a contest; he would listen to the other man’s screams and pride himself at his own silence. He would imagine conversations with this other man; the other man was a rotten bastard who deserved everything he got. He was his enemy. Then Alastair stopped torturing the other man, and focused on Dean. The other man got to sleep he was still chained, but they gave him a pallet to sleep on and food to eat.

Dean could smell the food over all the blood and stench and filth. It was the first time Alastair made the offer. If Dean would pick up a blade, he would put down his. Dean refused, and the pain continued then every day after he made the same offer pick up a blade, and the pain would stop. Dean held out against the pain; some of tortures Alastair did had names others were just terrible things strung together. Dean could see the other man now as the chained him to the wall. See him getting food and sleep and all the things Dean wanted, but couldn’t have because of him and one day it was too much. All the pain stacked on top of each other until it finally broke the will to fight back to do anything, but what Alastair offered. So he took up the knife and while he dug into the other man he lived without pain for the first time in weeks all he had was the left over aches nothing new was created.

When he stopped, Alastair strung him back up and tortured him again. So Dean tortured the other man longer and longer, to avoid the pain. After a while when dean did something creative that Alastair liked he gave him a treat. He let fed him or allowed him to sleep. Dean knew that Alastair was slowly warping his mind, but there was nothing he could do. He would give every bit of his soul away to make the pain stop for as long as it did, because when the pain was constant he could push part of it away but now that it stopped when Alastair started again he felt all of it. The fear of the pain was as pervasive and torturous as the actual pain.

Dean was the one being tortured when Castiel found him.

Castiel hated how naive he had been. When the center did not return his messages, he had assumed that Dean was being particularly difficult. That the process was taking longer than he initially expected.

He should have trusted his instincts; that clawing twisting fear in his gut told him that something was wrong. Their evasiveness and refusal to speak to him was more than just his obvious discomfort at the thought of Dean being harmed. Finally, after a month, he knew that something was wrong, they should have spoken to him about Dean’s progress, and he should have seen Dean by now. So he started to visit the center every day asking questions, where was Dean, if he was his master why couldn’t he see him?

The evasiveness continued and the fear he had for Dean escalated, Dean had many enemies, among the angels. He and his father hand cut a large swath through their ranks. There would be a few that held a grudge and would enjoy harming him.

What was worse was when he finally found out the truth. The Demon Alastair had taken an interest in Dean while he was torturing him for information in his first visit to Hell. Alastair was a fanatic; they called him Picasso with a razor, and he felt that the pain was the only way to truly reveal the self. He enjoyed breaking people he believed with an almost religious zeal that with intense pain ones true colors show. While he was a demon, he worked for either side out of a perverse pleasure for his job. If he had dean, for over a month who knew what he was going to find.

Dean was strung up against the wall much like when he first visited him, in hell except this time he was bloodied, and one leg was twisted at an awkward angle. An IV dangled next to one arm, and razor wire was wrapped around his entire body and Alastair was digging into him with a hot poker.

“So nice of you to stop by to visit us at work, but you’ll have to reschedule.”

Alastair sneered not even bothering to turn as he drove another hot poker into Dean, who screamed out half-heartedly in pain. He didn’t even seem to register that Castiel was in the room. He slumped exhaustedly as Alastair withdrew the poker.

Castiel was enraged at the gall of the demon torturing Dean, right in front of him. Part of Castiel wanted to smite him here and know where he stood, the rational side of his brain knew that the peace they had was tenuous and would easily be ended by killing a high ranking demon like Alastair. That while Alastair’s means where excessive and extreme, the council would view Castiel in the wrong since he had turned his slave over for training. Castiel focused instead on removing Dean from this situation. Revenge would come later.

Castiel pushed Alastair aside who only laughed at his efforts to disentangle Dean from the wire as it ended up drenching him in Dean’s blood. The sight of Dean’s blood made his heart ache. This man did not deserve to suffer like this. The Wire came out slowly bit by bit it was a slow and painful process for him and Dean. Alastair was amused at Castiel’s efforts he continued to chuckle to himself behind him.

Castiel’s heart lurched at every cut, burn and bruise he revealed as he unwound the wire. Finally, with the wire gone he was able to remove Dean from the chains. He was naked and soaked in his own blood and sweat; Castiel ignored it lifting him into his arms. While Dean was larger than himself, his strength allowed him to carry him.

He was barely conscious. “Cas?” he gasped unsurely his lips were cracked, and his voice sounded rough and broken.

“Yes, I am taking you home.” and for once Dean didn’t argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for hurting Dean I hated it.


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know what you guys think leave a comment

“Are you out of your bloody mind?” Balthazar demanded incensed throwing his hands up in anger. Castiel simply stared at the blue regeneration pod not deigning to reply. He was bordering on disobedience and for once the thought didn’t frighten him. Dean was damaged because of him. Castiel would be the one to heal him.

His people naturally had lifespans of roughly a thousand to three thousand years, but with the restoration technology they coopted from the Babalon their life spans were expanded exponentially, each Div was accorded the luxury of visiting the regeneration chamber. A public service available as a way to combat natural cell decay, and a way to heal and injury received in the name of the Angelic state. While bringing Dean here was not strictly against the code, it did bend the rules.

The pods were not infallible or well understood by the general public, so to regulate the usage each Div was assigned a card allotting them a system of points to pay for access to the pods as a way of staving off old age. The medical pod was normally used only for cell restoration while not required every day many angels felt ill effects if they skipped treatments. The pod was also equipped with the ability to heal all injuries as if they never happened, but unlike cell regeneration the cost to the machine was much higher.

Treating a slave while not forbidden was unheard of yet Dean had been tortured brutally on his account. In Castiel’s mind while Dean may not have asked for it he had bled for the good of the angelic state, and that deserved some reparation.

Castiel looked down at Dean so peaceful in the pod; he could almost believe he was already dead.

“This will cost you a month or more of regen.” Balthazar reminded him.

Castiel didn’t care. He would right this. He owed Dean that. Part of him feared for Dean’s mind more than his body. Castiel could fix the damage done to his flesh and bone, but the damage done to his heart and soul, he was not sure if the man he first met and the man he would meet again would be the same.

“What has gotten into you?” Balthazar demanded pacing agitatedly

   “Fist I get a call, not from you I might add...” He added the last with an accusing jab of his finger.

“…That you lost it at the training center, nearly upturned the entire place looking for one blasted human.” He was scowling Balthazar never scowled. He was flippant and sarcastic at best snarky and petulant at worst. He must truly be angry with him.

“On top of the fact that you’ve been ignoring my calls for a month,” he included resentfully “Then I find out you’ve charged back into hell like one of Earth’s bloody storybook characters to rescue your prince.” He spat the last word out dismayed “What about this human has you so twisted up inside?”

Castiel couldn’t say. The time he spent with Dean was brief and yet he had felt a more profound bond with him than any of his brothers.

   They were both soldiers, admittedly fighting for different sides, but the fight was still the same. Dean was a fighter. He had seen that in him. He hoped that, that flame hadn’t been extinguished by Alastair.

Silently Castiel studied him through the semi-transparent blue screen of the regeneration pod. Dean had suffered severe trauma; Castiel had sedated him so that he would remain asleep for the treatment. While simple cell regeneration was pleasant and refreshing, growing new skin to replace scar tissue and fracturing bone to move it correctly into place was painful. It irked Castiel that to heal Dean he was causing him almost as much pain as Alastair put him through, Even sedated he could see Dean try to twitch away from the low-intensity ultrasonic pulses that were encouraging his bones to grow. The machine, to his knowledge had never been used on a human and had never dealt with injuries this extensive he had no way of knowing how long it would take.

“I must admit, that I feel a profound bond with him.” He murmured hesitantly answering Balthazar’s question.

Balthazar gawked at him “A profound bond?” he reiterated very slowly as if he understood each word separately, but could not grasp the concept of the words used in conjunction, especially regarding Dean.

Castiel nodded; he had a great deal of respect towards Dean, and when he was with him he found himself doing things he would never have before.

He regretted sending him for training; he should have done it himself. He tried avoiding it because, the thought of subjugating Dean made him feel sick, but what had happened made him feel worse. He was torn between regretting that the Oiad chose him for this mission and grateful because otherwise he might not have met Dean.

Things would be different; he vowed knowing it wouldn’t be true. Things couldn’t be different; Dean was still his slave, and he was a master, a master with another man’s agenda and now not knowing the Oiad’s plan for Dean chaffed at him. What if something worse would happen? He had tried to return to communication to find out further instructions, but to no avail. He was left blind and bound by a promise to a leader no one had seen in millennia. It was frustrating.

“Cassie!” Balthazar yelled apparently frustrated with his lack of attention. Castiel tore his gaze away from Dean to watch his brother.

“If you’re going to stand here and make mooncalf eyes at him all any longer I think I am going to vomit.”

Castiel brows drew up in confusion. “What are you saying?”

He laid a weary hand across his forehead. “Cassie? Are you really that oblivious?”

He must have seen something in his face because he continued without Castiel needing to add to the conversation.

“Yes, of course, you are.” He sighed heavily before a pitying look crossed his face.

“Has it ever crossed your mind that you might…” he exhaled heavily “How can I put this in terms that even you might understand?” he waved a hand in a circle searching for words. “Is it possible that you like…” he leaned forward expectantly Castiel just stared.

“Oh god, don’t make me say it?” he groused with a dismayed groan. Castiel waited expectantly there were times where it truly felt that he and Balthazar were speaking entirely different languages, and Balthazar got frustrated, usually dramatically, that Castiel didn’t understand.

“Oh, bloody hell, is it possible that you ‘like’… ” he said emphasizing the word suggestively. “…Like Dean Winchester? There are you happy? I feel like I’ve soiled myself somehow just saying it.”

“I still don’t follow you.” He muttered.

Balthazar heaved a theatrical sigh raising his arms in exasperation.

“Of course not because you're that bloody angelic.” Somehow the word came across as an insult. He adopted a placating instructive tone.

“Castiel normal people want to shag someone on occasion,” he agitatedly paced while he spoke. He quickly turned to face him.

“Better than normal people, like yours truly,” he said gesturing to himself “Have the infrequent twelve-way, and then there is you. If it weren't for the whole Haziel incident, I would think you weren’t interested in anyone.”

Castiel flinched; Balthazar never brought up Haziel; he was there at the execution, and he knew how much it affected him.

Something close to remorse crossed his face only to be quickly pushed away by the return of his flippant nature.

“Surely you want to pop that cherry of yours with someone, given the circumstances I see why you’ve waited this long, but it was lifetimes ago.”

“Balthazar! Stop” he shouted heatedly. Balthazar nearly jumped at the sudden volume of his voice.

Castiel shouldn’t have gotten angry by what Balthazar said, he had said a lot more inflammatory things over the years, and he wasn’t what you would call a team player. Honestly very few angels could even stand him, but he struck a nerve, one that resonated to his core.

“Yes,” Castiel sighed heavily. “I find Dean physically appealing, but it is more complicated than that.”

“Not in my experience,” Balthazar replied.

Castiel knew he meant it too; everything was so easy for him, he didn’t feel guilty for using his slaves; he didn’t feel anything, but physical desire for anyone.

Not that he had any feelings other that comradery for Dean, but he entertained the possibility that if they had been equals perhaps things would have ended differently.

“Cassie, I’m only trying to look out for you. You are my friend.” He insisted

“Your only friend,” Castiel said with a smile.

“All the more reason to look out for you, this thing you have with the Winchester, it’s dangerous. If you want my advice,” Castiel gave him a skeptical look showing how much he valued his advice, but Balthazar continued regardless.

“Have sex with him, hop on him or have him hop on you it doesn’t matter, just get him out of your system,” he paused obviously struggling to find his next words. There was depth of emotion he rarely saw in Balthazar that shone forth with his words.

“You barely survived what happened to Haziel, in more ways than one. I can’t watch you do that to yourself again. I’m not a masochist.”

Castiel felt weary, the life he had before he met Dean had seemed so simple, while he had sympathy for humans before never to this degree.

“Your concern is noted.” He said carefully

A strange look crossed his friend's face before he veiled it.

He shrugged resigned, “I probably wouldn’t listen to me either,” he muttered grimly before walking out the door.

The machine’s alarm sounded giving him a much-needed distraction. Dean was fully healed. The only mark to mar his flesh was the handprint he left. Part of him wished he could remove it. That he could free Dean allow him to walk out of here, but his wants were not important.

As much as was conflicted about Dean’s imprisonment it was already done.

*******

Balthazar would give humans one thing. Liquor was an astounding invention. He had returned to his villa after his conversation with Castiel and reached for the good bottle.

His villa was centrally located he preferred the city life as opposed to country living while it wasn’t as spacious as Castiel’s it suited his needs and was well-stocked with every vice.

“Cognac?” Gabriel asked raising a brow from the door “Whoa who killed your puppy?”

His brother sauntered in like he owned the place, because as an Archangel he practically did.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He muttered.

Gabriel made a satisfied sound “That means it’s about Cassie, what has our little brother done this time?”

Balthazar poured Gabe a drink, Scotch; he kept the bottle of Cognac to himself.

Gabe made a sour face, but accepted the drink

“Are you here as an Archangel, or my brother?” Balthazar asked suspiciously.

“Half-brother.” Gabe amended quickly, “And we aren’t supposed to acknowledge that,” he said with a wink.

Balthazar downed the remainder of the Cognac relishing the taste, god if only his people created something so liberating maybe they wouldn’t be on this forsaken quest; they might have drunk themselves to death centuries ago.

Gabriel sighed he reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of candy before popping it in his mouth. Rolling his eyes heavily he continued.

“Mums the word, this is a social call I promise.” He insisted casually draping himself over the sofa. It was long enough to accommodate his height, where Balthazar’s legs would have dangled dangerously over the edge.

“Castiel has Dean Winchester, as a Prize.”

Gabriel jerked into a sitting position, so quickly he nearly swallowed his piece of hard candy.

He sputtered for a few minutes coughing before he looked at Balthazar with wide eyes.

“John Winchester’s boy?” Gabriel asked quickly.

Balthazar found himself growing suspicious again. While Gabe had always treated him as the brother he was, he was an Archangel first, and blood relations came second.

“Yes,” Balthazar confirmed it would have been just as easy for Gabe to find out himself.

He seemed vaguely distressed. Balthazar couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.

“How did he get clearance to get him out of hell?” he demanded in a rush. “Cassie is just a Seraph; I thought only Archangel’s had access to the Winchesters.

Balthazar had a feeling that he might have gotten Castiel in a lot more trouble.

He Shrugged “I have no idea, but why don’t you sit and have another drink before you have a meltdown.”

Gabe slid slowly back onto the sofa, he accepted the second drink; Balthazar gave him, this time he poured the Cognac.

“Now,” Balthazar began pleasantly “what in God’s name are you talking about?”

Gabe was oddly tense. “It’s classified.” He muttered. Normally Gabe’s good nature was only matched by his own. They were the carefree sort.

Balthazar good-naturedly patted his brother on the back.

“Of course, it is and you don’t even have to say anything. I just need to know one thing.” He said slowly

Gabe nodded understanding.

“Is Castiel in danger?” Balthazar asked quietly.

Gabriel looked up at him in all seriousness his normally jovial face marred by the intense weight of his thoughts.

He slowly almost imperceptibly inclined his head.

“From Dean?” He asked it earned him a slight shake.

“From someone else?” He met Balthazar’s eyes and nodded.

Balthazar sat down heavily on the sofa next to him. If Gabe couldn’t talk about it, that meant, this was about the other Archangels. Besides his brother there was Michael, Raphael, and Lucifer. Balthazar wasn’t sure which option would be worse.  

Michael was the current de facto ruler of the earth as the oldest Archangel he was the general of the Angelic army in this quadrant. Raphael was something of a traditionalist; he didn’t approve intermingling with other species they were simply tools to fight a war, which served no other purpose, and Lucifer was a rebel. He hated humans more than any of the other angels, and he craved power just as badly.He even sided with the enemy, as a power grab. And he was currently in prison and if he had the juice to swing Dean’s release that meant something very terrifying was coming.

Either way it was not a good outcome for Castiel

 

“You can’t tell him,” Gabriel said simply he looked over at him something like remorse or regret on his face. “I’d have to kill you if you tried.” He said very quietly. Balthazar felt the chill sweep up his spine. As children, they found out they were related by blood and struck up a friendship regardless

Balthazar chuckled bitterly. Rubbing a hand over his face it seemed like Castiel had made his bed, and now he would have to lie in it.

He abandoned the pretense of drinking from a glass and grabbed the bottle and took a long leisurely swig, before offering the bottle to Gabe.

He shook his head and simply raised his glass to him in a toast.

“Here’s to the end of the world.”

*******

Castiel was beginning to worry. Dean was still asleep. The effects of the sedative that he gave him should have worn off by now. Castiel had laid him down in his own bed, worried that the bed in his quarters would be uncomfortable, or too far away if Dean needed something. However that left him unable to sleep. He paced anxiously back and forth across the room. Pamela had assured him that he was physically sound and that his psychic presence while battered was still intact. Her gifts had never been wrong before.

Still Castiel was worried; what if there was trauma to his brain? What if that was why he was still unconscious? The machine was not equipped for dealing with humans, was it possible that it wasn’t capable of fully healing them? It had never been used that way. The human brain was incredibly delicate.

The clothing that Dean had worn while in hell was unsalvageable. Castiel had it burned.

He dressed him in loose sleep pants and a loose white shirt he wanted him to be comfortable.

It bothered him, how still Dean was. Was it normal for humans to sleep this still? Castiel approached the bed again to be sure that his chest was still moving.

The peaceful look he had seen when he last saw him was gone. Even in sleep there was a darkness there that was missing before. He was thinner. Even after the regeneration there were dark shadows under his eyes like he hadn’t slept untroubled in a lifetime. There was a heavy weight about him that Castiel shared.

Castiel was tired; Sleep eluded him.

Balthazar had stirred up feelings that he thought were long gone. Castiel moved to the courtyard, so he wouldn’t disrupt Dean’s sleep

The moon was visible from the screened in roof; he could smell the ocean breeze. It reminded him of stories of home, and yet strangely Earth was as much his home as anyplace else. He sat on a bench and relaxed into the cool night air.

Haziel and Dean were nothing alike. Dean was a solider and while Castiel occasionally felt the urge to protect him, Dean was by no means weak.

Haziel was misguided in his support of Lucifer, while they were on opposite sides of a battle Castiel could understand Dean’s struggle. He wanted freedom.

   What he felt for Haziel was the brief and violent affections of a child. They both had been so very young. Balthazar was not exaggerating when he said it was lifetimes ago. He wasn’t even a hundred years old at the time. He had never seen a day of battle when they first met that changed quickly, but their youth compounded their feelings making them seem larger than life itself.

He had long ago come to terms with Haziel’s death, which did not mean he understood it or forgot him, but he survived.

His lack of a sex life was a topic that was frequently broached with Balthazar. It was not a new question, and yet Castiel still had no real answer for him. At first it was Haziel, his loss had been a black mark a scar on his heart that needed time to heal. Centuries afterwards it stopped being about him and became something else. It wasn’t lack of attraction he had found many others attractive, male and female, yet he never perused them. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t know why. Perhaps he was afraid that if he cared for someone again it would kill him. Perhaps he felt unworthy. He had failed Haziel as a friend and as a lover in the most fundamental way. His loyalty belonged to the angelic state and as long as it did he could never truly love. His loyalty would always be pulled in two opposing directions. He wasn’t free to love anyone. As for sex without love, the idea had appealed to him on many lonely nights, but something always held him back.

A relationship with Dean had a whole other host of complications. Balthazar was insane to think that Castiel wanted Dean. He valued the man; he hoped they could be friends.

   Castiel appreciated Dean’s physiognomy, he was very attractive, but it went deeper than that he respected him. Part of him was afraid to admit that while he had genuinely cared for Haziel, he knew they were not equals. While on the surface Dean was his lesser, he was a human, and a slave but Castiel couldn’t shake the respect he had for him. It was real.

The way he stood up for himself and his world, and fought against losing odds, the way he honored and loved his brother his unyielding loyalty Castiel wondered what it took to earn that loyalty.

   He was loyal to the angelic state, but was anyone loyal to him? Balthazar was his friend and while he had claimed that he was Balthazar’s only friend it wasn’t truly the case, although he was likely Castiel’s only friend

What did it all mean? His entire life was centered on a loyalty to a state billion’s of light years away. Haziel’s death had not shaken his faith. Why did he question it now?

It was something that plagued him in the month Dean was gone. Dean had said there was always a choice. Could that even be true?

   The idea had never occurred to him. Choice was this elusive, mysterious thing that other species had. While Earth had been his longest campaign he had come across other species in his travels, seen other planets conquered.

It always was the same, till Earth, eventually they pledged their allegiance to the angelic order and became a protectorate. The humans fought back, technologically out manned, and they still continued to fight back.

Did Castiel have choices? He wasn’t sure anymore.

***

_Dean knew he was dreaming, but that didn’t make what he saw any less terrifying. The world was a giant raging storm. Thick black and gray clouds with lightning flashing and streaking past surrounded him in every direction. Thick black chains held him suspended in the air. Heavy hooks held him in place tearing into his flesh in his shoulder and side. The world was all storms, chains and pain. He screamed out for Sam. His voice echoed for what sounded like miles. There was no response except the sound in the distance of baying hounds. They were coming for him. They ripped into his flesh; blood soaked his clothing as it welled up from all the slashes of their claws. They mangled his body and feasted on his innards. He tried calling out again only this time his mouth was choked with blood and no sound came out, but a weak gurgling moan of pain and agony._

***

Castiel heard Dean cry out. Surprised he quickly dashed inside worried that someone was there only to see him completely alone thrashing about on the bed. It was obvious that he was still asleep as he lashed back and forth on the bed his hands fisted into the sheets. Cautiously Castiel approached him he was soaked in sweat. His breathing was heavy; he reached out to feel his pulse. His skin was flushed, and his pulse was erratic.

He was having a nightmare. Castiel’s first instinct was to wake him up. He sat next to him on the bed and placed his hands on his shoulders. He screamed out as if in pain. Startled Castiel released him. His eyes flashed wide open but unseeing. It wasn’t clear if he was awake or asleep, but it was clear he wasn’t aware what was happening. He mumbled Sam’s name over and over in a heartfelt litany, desperately asking for his brother.

Castiel was at a loss for how to comfort him; it seemed that he was trapped reliving the trauma of his torture, combining it with the fear of losing his brother. He wasn’t crying, but it was obvious he was gripped by a fear so profound it left him inconsolable. He was making intelligible noises flailing his arms as if he were chasing away imaginary combatants.

Without thinking, he climbed in bed next to him and pulled him close. At first it hurt. Dean struggled against him. Twisting and turning in his grasp striking him with his swinging fists.

“Shh.” Castiel crooned trying to soothe him. “Hush, everything is ok” he murmured he kept one arm tightly wrapped around him as he hauled him against his chest after a few moments he lessened his struggle as Castiel ran a comforting hand through his hair and down his back. Castiel tried to think of what human’s did to comfort children after nightmares. He had the vaguest memory of his mother singing to him. While he did not have her voice, he thought maybe if he hummed something the sounds would be soothing and calm Dean. He began to hum, just random sounds at first until he realize he was humming a popular earth song, by a band named after an insect, he couldn’t remember the name just the tune. “Nah… nah nah ….nah nah nah… nah nah nah.”

After a few moments, he was sleeping peacefully again. Rather than get up right away and risk rousing him Castiel laid back pulling Dean against him. He studied him his breathing had evened out and tightness slowly eased out his body as he relaxed against him. Castiel held him in his arms his face only inches from his own. He looked serene. He was warm against him, and it felt surprisingly right. His initial reaction had only been about comforting Dean, but part of him had to admit. It was nice being close to someone again. It was his last thought as he drifted off to sleep.

 

Dean didn’t fully wake, but the pain and fear faded away until all he could feel was this amazing warmth. He knew the hellhounds weren’t real; it was over, and he was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if its cliché but I couldn't resist "Hey Jude"


	7. 7

 

Dean assumed that he was dead. He wasn’t in pain, and he was actually pretty comfortable. He was lying on something soft and instead of the fetid smell of blood and sweat; he could smell clean linen and something underlying that, that reminded him of Cas.

He never really believed in heaven. His mom used to say that heaven was like one long dream you never wanted to wake up from, if it was true; that was something he could get behind. He did feel slightly fuzzy like he was in a dream.

He very slowly opened his eyes; he didn’t immediately recognize his surroundings as they swirled around him. It was brighter than he expected. It was so bright he had to close his eyes at first. It was then he realized that he wasn’t alone. He could feel the warmth and the weight of someone’s arms around him. If that was part of heaven, he could easily behind that as well.

His brain felt sluggish, but the pleasant kind of slow, like the very distant memories he had of sleeping in late on the weekends. If this was a pleasant dream or heaven either way he was going to embrace it, because if it was just a dream he would quickly go back to being tortured in reality, and if this was heaven and he somehow wound up making the cut he was insane if he didn’t enjoy it.

Without opening his eyes, he ran his hands up the arms around him. He could feel warm muscles beneath his fingertips. Well, that answered one question; he was in bed with a man, which was fine by him, it was a very long time ago when, lied to himself about his attractions. Maybe he didn’t advertise it but he wasn’t embarrassed about who he was, he didn’t feel the need to label it, he liked chicks, he liked dudes hell if he had the opportunity he would probably like both depending on the situation.

When was the last time he got laid? The thought crossed his mind unbidden

God it was at least four years ago, he almost shuddered. Now was as good a time as any, he supposed.

A wave of dizziness overcame him as he opened his eyes it took a moment for him to focus, he should have been surprised. Castiel was sleeping peacefully next to him.

Dean should have been, pissed, or annoyed, or disappointed that his dream was with this douche of an angel, and yet he wasn’t. He had many hang ups, he was more screwed up in the head than anyone had right to be but he was always honest with himself about who he found attractive. From the moment, he saw him Dean wanted the angel. He wasn’t going to deny that at least not to himself, sure if anyone asked he would tell them to suck it and give them the finger as well for good measure. Not because he was ashamed, he was an adult if someone had a problem he would take care of it, but Cas was an angel, the enemy. Wanting to fuck the enemy was probably a bad idea. Still… Dean glanced back at the angel. He was relaxed in sleep; a little bit of stubble graced his face. Dean thought about how it would feel against his lips.

In reality, they were on different sides, if this was a dream or whatever it wouldn’t matter and he was at least eighty percent sure this wasn’t real. The last thing he could remember was Alastair carving him up. He tried to remember something else. Vague notions of a comforting voice humming, but he couldn’t contextualize it.   He was wearing clothing that he was unfamiliar with, actually his whole body felt vaguely strange. The scars he remembered having on his hands were gone. He pulled off his shirt, all the claw marks Alastair left had vanished and for that matter the bullet wound on his shoulder and knife cuts every scar he had accumulated over the course of his life were gone, except the handprint Cas had seared into his flesh.  

Now he was about ninety-five percent sure this wasn’t real. His vision did that weird swirly thing from before again like looking through the bottom of a glass coke bottle. This whole situation was probably some fucked up fever dream he was lucky enough to have as he was dying. While he had no plans to give up the ghost that easily he could enjoy his brush with death.

   Dean ran a light finger down Cas’s chest. He didn’t wake, but he stirred in his sleep. He leaned over him and gently kissed along the angle of his jaw.

***

Someone was touching him. Castiel realized as he slowly woke up. They were kissing him, across his jaw up and down his neck. It was extremely pleasant. He reached out and ran his hand through their hair. They murmured their approval. He could feel them move about him as the straddled his hips. Unconsciously Castiel gave his hands free reign they slid over warm skin up a muscular back and across shoulders he felt raised ridges of his handprint “Dean?” he asked after a moment, knowing no other person with that mark. He opened his eyes. Dean was straddling him, staring down at him with that same cocky smile. “Morning” He said with a smirk his voice throaty. If what Dean was doing before, hadn’t turned him on that smirk was enough to arouse him to the point that it wasn’t a secret. If anything it made Dean’s lascivious grin a little more confident and he leaned heavier against him with the barest hint of a grind.

Castiel wasn’t sure what to say, so he said nothing, he simply marveled at Dean, the way he looked, the way his skin smelled, the way he felt over him. Then something changed a pained expression crossed his face. He quickly left up and ran shakily across the room out into the atrium. Outside of his view Castiel could hear the sounds of him retching.

***

Not a dream, Dean realized nobody puked their guts out in the bushes in dreams, or at least if they did it didn’t feel this bad.

He heard Castiel’s voice from the other room. “Must be a side effect of the sedative, I must have given you too much, considering your weakened state” there was concern, covered by a layer of huskiness to his voice. He had like what dean had been doing.

His head was spinning like he drank a whole bottle of cheap whisky. Well that was the worst mood killer he’d ever suffered through. “You drugged me.” He shouted accusingly as he fought and failed against another bout of vomiting. Great the man he was hot for just a moment before roofied him.

Cas approached him, and angry Dean just jerked away, ignoring the wave of nausea that assaulted him at the sudden movement.

“Not in the way you are accusing.” Cas insisted raising up his hands trying to reassure him.

“I woke up in your bed,” Dean said matter of fact. He leaned heaving against the archway trying to stop the room from spinning.

“You would not hold still for the healing,” he spat out hurriedly, Cas approached him. “I promise you I would never take advantage of you.”

Dean straightened wiping the back of his across him mouth. “Seemed like you were fine with it a second ago.”

Cas face actually reddened, and he uncomfortably looked away.

“Yes, well it won’t happen again.” He continued awkwardly.

Dean didn’t say that he would willingly put himself back into that position if Cas were anyone, but his angel master. He was very expressive, every little touch showed something new in his face.

“What happened?” he questioned.

For a moment, it seemed like Cas wasn’t sure what he meant. “In hell, I can’t remember anything,” Dean asked clarifying

Surprise and maybe relief crossed the angel’s face.

“Alastair tortured you.” Cas said very quietly a current of anger strung through his words.

Dean nodded, “and you got me back out” it was less of a question and more confirming what he saw.

Cas nodded again. He was looking at him strangely

“You don’t remember anything?” Cas wondered almost, hopefully,

Dean clenched his jaw as he spoke a lie, “Not a damned thing.”

It was quiet for a moment before Dean glanced back at the bed

“Why were we in bed together?” he wondered very slowly,

“I can assure you nothing untoward happened.” Cas reassured again

Dean shrugged glancing away.

“Whatever,” Dean said sullenly he had more questions, but they would wait. First he needed to brush his teeth.

Dean stared at himself in the mirror over the bathroom sink.

He looked like a new man. Cas said something about healing.It seemed like it did the job and then some. He would ask more about that in a second, but he needed to wrap his head around the weird emotions he was feeling.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

“Occupied,” Dean shouted angrily. Staring into his own eyes in the mirror, eyes of a killer.

“I don’t care what you’re doing I’m coming in,” Pamela shouted back.

Surprised Dean didn’t bother using his strength to keep the door closed. All he really wanted was a moment alone.

She forced her way into the cramped space that made up their slave quarters shared bathroom.

   Pamela was looking at him like he was a ticking time bomb, and maybe he was.

Maybe all the times he thought himself a good man was a lie, fighting angels was the only thing keeping him from being a monster just like them.

“Whatever you’re thinking right now, whatever is going on in that thick skull of yours isn’t true.” She said quietly. He turned to her. What did she know? She didn’t know who he was what he’d done.

He had done some awful things in the name helping his family. He had killed before, but he had justified it as killing the enemy. That man in hell, he wasn’t the enemy, in there he had felt like it but part of him always knew that it wasn’t true.

“Get out.” He nearly growled. She didn’t say anything else, just left him there; alone just like he wanted, and he instantly wished he wasn’t, he was tired of being alone.

Everything felt all twisted up. His time in hell felt unreal, next his near miraculous healing it didn’t feel real. He wasn’t sure when he told Cas he couldn’t remember anything. When he remembered every god forsaken moment of the torture he went through, and worse he remembered what he did to that man.

He splashed water on his face, trying to get control of himself. He leaned over the sink fighting the urge to vomit again. He couldn’t blame it all on the drugs, the knowledge of what he did sat like a rock in his stomach.

He shuddered, the physical marks Alastair left were gone, but Dean knew the emotional scars were still plenty deep.

***

Castiel felt guilty, because he desired Dean. Balthazar’s words finally hit home. He wanted Dean; they might become friends, but that wouldn’t kill the attraction he felt for him.

It suddenly seemed the most obvious thing in the universe, but somehow he had pushed back how he felt because he didn’t want to feel that way.

Dean was his slave. He didn’t want to take advantage of his trust; he didn’t want to use him. He wanted equality.

He glanced over at the clock. He wanted to be there to answer any more questions Dean had, but the Assembly was starting soon.

While the archangels had the final say, the angels used a form of direct democracy, citizens, and not elected representatives, voted before each assembly.

There were two primary types of gatherings used to vote on legislative, electoral, and judicial matters. The first was the Assembly which was a gathering that was deemed to represent the entire Angelic populace, even if it did not contain all of the citizens. The second was the Council that was a gathering of citizens of a specific class mostly archangels as a few chosen seraphs

They had been meeting for months discussing the negotiations and terms of peace with the demons, the Assembly was drawing to a close the decision would be made soon regarding the changes and polices that would take place on Earth.

He was required to attend. Regretfully he would have to leave Dean to his own devices for a short period.

He dressed quickly in the robes, for the court he thought about Dean. He had thought about it all night before Dean’s nightmare, and he had come to the decision that once he found Sam, he would free Dean. It wasn’t a common practice, but he knew that it could be done. If he ever wanted things to be different between them there needed to be space for them to be equal.

As he left he felt the tension from all the unspoken swirl of emotions between him and Dean, this wasn’t over, he would talk to him about what happened tonight.

***

As far as Dean was concerned this morning never happened. He was drunk or drugged or whatever, and he was not in control of his actions. It changed nothing between Cas and him

They were still friendly enemies, and it was up to Dean to try to escape. Rather than wait around like a good little slave. He had been gone too long. Trapped in hell, freed and trapped again.

This time he wasn’t going to take a chance, he couldn’t trust Cas maybe he knew something about Sammy, maybe he was willing to help him find him, that didn’t matter anymore. He needed to leave. Cas had neglected to put the collar back on him when he took him out of Hell a second time. It was now or never.

Things were too complicated here; he couldn’t focus, he needed to find Sammy, needed to find Bobby, get back to fighting angels not imagine fucking one. The things he did in hell drove him forward. Guilt plagued him; he needed to make things right. The rebellion needed him, if it was still going on; it had been four years and the angels seemed more in control than ever. He was going to break everyone out of Hell or to die trying. He would make it right, but first thing first he was going to get out of here.

He walked back into the open quarter with the sunken bath. The metal bars that covered the ceiling, he decided that this was his best route. Quickly he pulled the heavy night table from the bedroom. He tested it. It was sturdy enough to hold his weight. He stood on top of the nightstand to get a closer view of the bars. The metal bars were just as strong as he remembered, but his plan didn’t depend on the strength of the bars.

He leapt down and went in search of the right tool.

A flash of him carving up a man flashed into his mind, he pushed it away. He had a job to do. When he was done, he could drink himself to death out of guilt but for now he needed to escape.

He went to his bedroom and tossed the mattress aside. The metal bed frame was cheap compared to the mattress. He stomped it repeatedly the impact broke the metal off at the corner leaving him a sharpened metal like spear.

He took that point and returned back to the atrium. On top of the table, he bashed the sharpened metal tip against the wooden frame that the metal bars were sunken into until he was able to expose the end of one piece of bar. He was sweating, and the metal made his hands ache, but he was in the grips of a powerful desire to be gone.

He couldn’t stay here; he needed to do something. He wasn’t the type to be inactive; it drove him crazy.

He didn’t want to think about hell, so he needed to keep moving if he slowed down hell would catch up to him. Single-mindedly he continued his task focusing only on using the metal to chip away at the wood.

Finally, he had freed maybe six or seven bars, he grabbed the metal and pulled with all his strength at first it protested but he was rewarded with the scrape of metal on wood as splinters rained down.

He had pulled off a section of bars wide enough for his shoulders to get through.

“I assume since the noise stopped that means you’ve gotten a hole big enough for you to escape,” Pamela said flatly

Dean looked down she was screening her face with her hand against the glare of the sun looking up at him.

He had been at it for hours; he could tell by the rumble in his stomach and the burning of his shoulders and arms.

Dean didn’t know what to say. While he was not opposed to hitting a woman, the ones he had were monsters, not humans. It took him a moment where he was probably doing a very good rendition of a goldfish his mouth moving, but no words coming out.

She smiled at him. “Cat got your tongue?” She asked. After several moments, Dean finally got enough words together to form a sentence. “You can come with me.” He offered.

She cocked her head to the side one hand on her hips. “There is nothing better out there than what is in here.” She replied cryptically.

“Whatever you’re running from, it will find you. Do you want to be alone when it does?” She asked him point blank. He flinched under her stare.

“I’ll take my chances.” He replied stiffly.

She nodded a grudging respect on her face. “The stubborn ones always do.”  

“Are you going to stop me?” he asked very quietly.

For a moment, time was suspended as he waited for her to come to a decision.

She shook her head. “No, sometimes we all have to do the stupid thing. Once in a while.” Her tone was a little sad and thoughtful.

He released the breath he had been holding. His heart was hammering in his chest; he just needed to leave, and he wanted things to be back to normal. He knew it wasn’t possible; his dad was gone Sammy was missing he was an aliens pet, things were as far from normal as possible.

“Come on down I’ll help you pack, it’s a long way to where you’re going.”

Dean looked at her strangely, but she continued “Sioux Falls South Dakota is a good full day’s drive from California.”

Dean was surprised, and she just smiled coyly. Whatever, he lived in a planet conquered by a race of technologically advanced aliens, who was he to judge.

As he pulled himself up onto the roof, Dean felt a twinge in his gut, knowing that he wouldn’t see Cas again. He almost wished he could apologize for the way he was leaving things. Cas saved him from hell not once but twice, and he was also the reason he was there the second time.

Part of Dean wanted to blame him. That if it wasn’t for Cas he wouldn’t have killed that man, but Cas didn’t know what happened to him. Alastair had tortured him the fact enough times for Dean to know no one was coming for him.

He took a pair of blue jeans and a gray shirt, and he didn’t want to take from Cas, but he needed clothing. He needed to blend in, and his hunter’s mark made it obvious what kind of person he way.

   He only hoped Bobby was still holed up in that salvage yard of his. Otherwise, he had no idea where to look for him, and he didn’t want to consider that he might be dead.

He had enough to worry about thinking Sammy might be dead.

   He crept along to top of the roof careful not to be seen. Once he reached the outer edge he dropped down and hurried to the road. It took him a while before he got a ride. From there he hitched into town and stole a car. With any luck, he would find Bobby safe and sound in about a day if he drove straight through the drive was long, and it gave him way too much time to think. He tried blaring music to keep his mind away from the dark parts, but it didn’t help.

Two things kept swirling around in his head. The fact that he had been ready to sleep with Cas, the man that got him tortured, the man who claimed to own him, took away his freedom with the offer of a pretty life and the fact he tortured a man for just that, food and to make the pain stop, a chance to sleep.

   If he had taken Cas up on his offer when he first made it how different would things have turned out? He knew he would never have gone through with it. Dean Winchester was no one’s bitch, but as he drove he wondered listening to the sound of the tires on the road, the wind whipping past the busted window.

There was something there, left unsaid below the surface. Dean knew it. Dean wasn’t one to think too hard how he felt about something if it hurt he pushed it down, buried it under a layer of self-hatred and casual bravado, but Cas confused him.

The man said he wanted to help him that he wanted them to be equals, and then drugged him and chained him up, Dean wanted to trust him, but knew he couldn’t.

Still part of him knew that he would always think of him. That if years went by and he never saw or heard from him again he would still think of him and wonder what happened to him, that whenever he would go out to a battlefield between the humans and angels he would look over the dead hoping never to see his face.

   Dean didn’t have a word for what that was, he didn’t like labels. Hell he wasn’t always the best about emotions in general, but he knew how he felt most of the time he was able to put people in easy categories. Friends and family and the enemy, maybe it was too black and white, but it tended to work. Everyone else was somebody that needed saving, and yet Cas wasn’t any of that.

As much as he tried to ignore the thought he wanted to see him again.

***

Dean was gone. Pamela shook her head; she knew soul mates when she saw them, too bad they were both too stupid to figure it out. She owed Castiel her life, he saved her when no one else had, that bought him all her loyally and by extension a little for Dean too.

Castiel deserved some happiness, and if what she sensed about Dean was true he did too. They both had this darkness swirling around their aura’s bad emotional baggage. She had been there herself; she had the tattoo to prove it.

She could see their path clearly; it wasn’t an easy on, but they intersected this wasn’t the end of their story; they still had a lot of ground to cover, and if they were really lucky it might have a happy ending.

Dean had been gone for maybe an hour when they came. She heard a crash from her room a loud bang and the sound of splintering wood. Startled she ran into Castiel’s bedroom, in the shell of the doorway stood two angels in suits. She knew they were angels but the trademark silver blades in their hands. Before she knew how to react they saw her and quickly crossed the room; one grabbed her arm while the other gave a cursory look around the room.

“He’s not here.” He said to the other. She wasn’t sure if he meant Castiel or Dean. The angel that held her cursed loudly in Enochian. The one he held her jerked her arm behind her back and held her close to his chest as he forced her to face the boss.

“Where is the Winchester?” he demanded shaking her, Pamela kept her mouth shut. At least that answered one question.

Her silence earned a backhand to the face. It hurt, but she had much worse. If he thought she was going to give up that easy he had another thing coming

“I don’t know.” She said through clenched teeth.

The angel held up a hand before her face. He lightly pressed his fingertips to her forehead.

“Which do you want more, to protect Dean Winchester or keep your eyes?” he threatened

She didn’t reply; simply glared at the angel; he was the last thing she ever saw.

A god awful searing pain started at the back of her eyes until she felt them melt in their sockets. She screamed out in pain and crumpled to the ground. Her eyes were gone she could feel the pain and emptiness of their loss.

“Wrong answer,” The angel replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't include the name of the town in California mostly because I want it to be more fictional that placing it in a real place.


	8. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to know what you think, comment tell me what you want

***

Castiel took his seat among the other members of the Assembly. The auditorium was a series of semi-circular seating shelves in the theatre, divided by broad belts, with eleven rows of seats between each. He was one of the last angels seated the Assembly had already started; It was bedlam, many were not happy with the idea of a truce. The moderator Zachariah was having difficulty keeping the flood under control.

Angels shouted their disapproval in no uncertain terms; humans gathered around the perimeter while this Assembly wasn’t open to the public some conventions accepted human votes. The angels were in control of the planet; it was easier for the humans to rule their daily commerce as long as the Angelic authority was respected. The angels were fine allowing the humans a modicum of autonomy. They still had lives, and making it seem to the masses that nothing had changed was one way they maintained control. Yes, things were different, but most slaves were those who did not accept Angelic rule and everyone knew it.

Uriel was seated next to him. The angel was obviously uncomfortable in his ceremonial robes and possibly with the idea of the Assembly altogether. Uriel was something of a specialist, he was a soldier yes, but only called in as a last resort, he had no value for human life. He enjoyed pitting them against each other in the arena or smiting an entire town to kill one man. Castiel wasn’t sure if he valued angelic life any more than he did humans, the man loved violence.

“This is insanity.” He muttered. Castiel wasn’t sure if he was speaking to him at first.

“Yes,” Castiel said offhandedly studying the crowd opposite as the demons began to flock inside the auditorium

While angles had a strict order on what was required to wear to assembly it seemed the demons did not, unless black leather pants was a requirement.

Their leaders were easy to spot; they were the only ones not wearing copious amounts of leather.

While the demon hierarchy was not a well laid out as the angelic order, there were a few leaders who rose above the rest the main two being Lilith, and Azazel. While there was always an edge of chaos, among the lower demons jockeying for position, those two remained the same.

In the demon hierarchy, you keep what you kill; many had tried to kill the current leaders only to suffer horribly.

Azazel, wore the body of a man in his fifties with close cut brownish hair, his eyes was the most striking thing about him, while most demons had the nictitating membrane that could slide forth to cover their eyes. His eyes were unique, rather than did not appear to have separate pupil and iris; his whole iris appeared to be a marbled golden yellow. He casually chose a seat at the front of the room; he was casually dressed in a navy blue button up dress shirt and brown jacket. At his side holding, his hand was the diminutive figure of Lilith.

While she looked, and sometimes acted like a child, Lilith was ancient, one of the oldest living demons, from a time in the beginning. No one knew how far back her knowledge went. There was little information about her, but when Lucifer rebelled she was the one he sided with.

His rebellion happened long before they reached Earth, over nine thousand years, and countless light years separated them from the desolate rock where Lucifer made his first bid for ruler of the angelic order.

He said he tired of searching for more planets, more civilizations to conquer. He just wanted to go home; he didn’t care about the war with the demons, as far as he was concerned they could all share the planet. Lucifer pushed for using the demons conciseness preservation technology and travel back give up the war.

To many angels the idea had a certain appeal, he had to agree that it would be nice to see Oadriax, the reason they had been fighting for so long, but this decision was bigger than his wants or even the yearning for a home. This was for the good of all. The war wasn’t over; this was an armistice not an end.

Lillith pranced next to Azazel, wearing a doll like pink dress with puffed sleeves and a ribbon around her waist, her blonde hair trailing down her back pulled away from her ears with pins.

While she seemed like an innocent, she was the fiercest general they had. Completely merciless she once claimed she would rip the wings off any angel she captured, and she had, flaying the skin off their backs bit by bit.

Most of the time her eyes were blue, but she flashed an angry look at the Archangel in attendance her eyes seeming to roll back into her head as the white opaque membrane slid over her eyes, she smiled.

Castiel repressed a shudder seeing it.

“Michael, has lost his mind if he thinks a peace with these, creatures could last any longer than it takes to slice his throat.” Uriel spat out revolted his lip curling in disgust as he watched them.

Castiel was loath to agree with Uriel on anything, but he feared that he was right.

Demons couldn’t be trusted to follow any rules but their own and even then it was questionable.

“I hear you have a Winchester as your prize,” Uriel said changing the subject.

Castiel frowned “Where did you hear that?” He wondered.

“That is all the archangels talk about…” he replied off-handed.

“…That and this damnable peace treaty, that is doomed to fail.”

Castiel nodded absently absorbing the information when something across the room caught his glance. He thought he saw someone familiar moving about the demon’s side of the Assembly. Ruby? He hadn’t thought she was high enough in the rankings to earn a seat at this meeting. Last he heard she and Lilith were at odds after Ruby tried to kill her.

She wasn’t taking a seat she moving among the crowd almost as if she was trying to avoid notice.

“The only good thing about this treaty is the celebration games.” He said with a certain relish.

Castiel tried to track her movement as she wove in and out of the other demons it seemed like she was looking for someone. Only half his attention on his conversation he absently asked

“What games?” it appeared that was the response that Uriel wanted for he dug into the description with a sinister enjoyment.

“Michael knows how poorly the state thinks of this treaty, to raise morale he built a new arena and is christening it with a hundred days of inaugural games.” He chuckled threateningly “He thinks if he bathes the arena in blood he will be able to overcome his poor reputation.” He shook his head doubtfully. “He has set a thrilling schedule; Animal entertainments in the morning session, followed by the executions of criminals around midday, with an afternoon session reserved for gladiatorial combats.”

Ruby disappeared from his view as she slipped past the seating.

“I would love to borrow him for the Arena,” Uriel admitted ominously.

Castiel turned his attention briefly back to Uriel, was he asking him if he could use Dean for the Arena?

“It would be entertaining to see what pair of Winchesters in the arena could do.”

Castiel’s attention snapped back to Uriel, “You have a Winchester?”

Uriel smiled it seemed he was trying to make an evocative comment. Trying to goad him for so reason.

He simply inclined his head slightly but turned his focus back to the assembly as Zachariah shouted loudly for order.

Michael himself wasn’t present, but Raphael descended the dais, while he did not seem thrilled about the Assembly his presence was all the order they needed.

   Even the demons settled down and listened to him speak.

“Today is the beginning of the end,” Raphael said looking out across the sea of faces. The entire crowd was hushed listening as he spoke.

“The war is over.” He said quietly so quiet it was almost impossible to hear him. It was obvious that his words did not have the strength of conviction.

This battle was a losing one if played on demon terms. They had unending life, thanks to their technology, and there were only so many angels and without using their knowledge against them it was a pointless battle.

It was a transparent, attempt as emboldening the angelic ranks before another attack; it was only a matter of time. The angels knew it, the demons knew it and yet both sides were prepared to play nice and seemingly work together for a time.

The Assembly was less of the actual vote at this point and more of a formality.

The decision had already been made by the Counsel of the remaining two archangels; Lucifer was imprisoned, and Gabriel was not interested in politics and refused his vote. No questions were asked, and no refusals were allowed.

Raphael walked off stage and out of the auditorium.

Zachariah stood up and waved his hand. “That’s it; everyone get out!”

The Assembly was over as quickly as it began. The angels filled out.

   Castiel turned so that he could ask Uriel about who he was talking about; he had promised that he would find Sam, for Dean, and this was his first lead. His treacherous brain reminded him that, this wasn’t entirely true there was a rumor, that and nothing more, of a connection between Sam Winchester and Azazel. Castiel had dismissed the notion not trusting Ruby’s intentions.

   Uriel had disappeared. Castiel hurried home; he had a lead it was tenuous, but it was a start.

***

When he entered his home, he knew something was wrong, the servant were on edge. They whispered as he walked by. He couldn’t make out what was said, but when he reached his bedroom, he knew what had instilled the fear in them.

The door of his bedroom was blown inward as if by a great force of an explosion. Splinters of wood littered the floor, but what troubled him more than the wood was the stray flecks of blood he saw, he looked around quickly and saw neither Dean, Pamela nor any intruders.

   He tracked the trail of splinters to nearly the center of the room where a disturbingly large puddle of blood was drying on the flood.

He knelt and touched it; the blood was tacky but not quite dry.

Quickly knowing it was now a matter of life and death he renewed his search for Dean and Pamela.

He found her huddled face down on the floor of her room, a small circle of blood next to her head. She recoiled as she heard his footsteps.

“Get away from me.” She screamed suddenly afraid.

“Pamela its Castiel.” She turned to him, and he gasped in shock.

Someone had burned her eyes right out of her sockets. Streaks of red marred her cheeks, and only gaping holes remained where her eyes should be.

Without time for thought Castiel hauled her into his arms. He could see servants hovering just in his bedroom afraid until now to enter. If he hadn’t come home know who knows what could have happened to her.

“Call an ambulance.” He called out lightly stroking her cheek.

They hesitated unsure. “I said call and ambulance!” he shouted angrily they snapped to attention.

“They…” she started but her voice cracked. She wet her lips and tried again. “They came for Dean.”

Sudden and intense fear bloomed in his chest. He hadn’t found Dean could they, whoever did this to her, take him.

He tried to hush her knowing that she was sapping her strength, but part of him screamed to ask about Dean.

“He was already gone.” She whispered.

Dean escaped? Castiel was both overjoyed and strangely miserable at the thought.

“Where?” Castiel asked almost against his will.

“Sioux Falls,” she gasped out after a beat she let the last word fall heavily from her lips. “Singer,” she slumped in his arms. Panicked he felt for her pulse happy to find it thready and rapid, but there. She was in shock.

He wasn’t sure what the last word meant, but he knew it was a clue.

Once he knew she was safe, Castiel caught a transport to South Dakota

***

Dean had tried to call the number he had for Bobby, but it kept going to voice mail. On the off chance that someone other than Bobby had access to the phone he didn’t leave a message.

He just hopped Bobby wasn’t on any heart medications, because he might be in for a real shock.

Like most of the rebellion Bobby probably assumed that he was dead

Dean pulled slowly up to Singer’s scrapyard. It looked operational, or at least as much as it ever had. Junked cars were piled all around stacked higher and deeper in every direction. A little dirt road led up to the house, rather than risk the car being seen Dean drove past and ditched the stolen vehicle a few miles down the road and backtracked.

Part of him really hoped that Bobby was there and safe and that the angels hadn’t found a way to take out the older man.

It was still early morning; he was beat, he had driven straight through worried that if he stopped the stolen car would get spotted or the angels would somehow pick up his trail. He had heard bad stories about escaped slaves. Anyone who had knowledge about an escaped slave was required by law to send word about the slave’s whereabouts to the owner, and while his clothing helped him blend in If anybody caught sight of the giant red handprint on his arm they would start to get suspicious.

It wouldn’t help that he was marked by the resistance as well. That had been a bit of his stupidity on his part most rebels just had patches or armbands boasting the symbol of the resistance.

He and Sammy had to take it a step farther and get tattoos; Sammy had been fifteen, he had to bribe the guy twenty bucks to do it without parental permission. His dad had been torn between furious and begrudgingly proud.

Absently he wondered if Sammy had it removed when he went to law school; he had never thought to ask before now.

Finally, he had trudged up the long path and knocked on Bobby’s door.

It swung open the hinges creaking slightly, and thank god it was Bobby on the other side of that door.

Still wearing a beat up hat and a dingy flannel over shirt he looked tired, a little more worn and a little older, but it was still Bobby.

“Surprise,” He said quietly   Bobby just stared at him like he’d seen a ghost and in a lot of ways it was almost true.

“I don’t…” Bobby just whispered letting the sentence trail off. His mouth still slightly agape

Dean shrugged “Yeah, I don’t either.” He said with a slight laugh it was hard to believe nobody escaped hell after all and very few people did it not in a body bag.

Then it was Dean’s turn to be surprised.

As Bobby swung at him with a giant knife, shocked Dean barely had time to reflect the blow.

“Whoa Bobby, it’s me what are you doing.” He asked grabbing his knife hand then he grunted in pain as Bobby back fisted him to the face.

“My ass!” he snarled angrily brandishing the knife threateningly

“Wait,” Dean demanded passively rising up his hand in protest.

“Your name is Robert Steven Singer; you became a rebel when your wife was killed by angels, and you’re about the closest thing I have to a father.” The last slipped out unbidden, but it was still true.

Slowly a little too slowly for Dean’s liking he lowered the blade. With wide eyes open mouthed stunned expression he approached him and reached out to touch his shoulder.

Then slashed forward with the knife again Dean grabbed his arm again twisting it “I’m not an imposter,” he ground out as Bobby fought back

“Then you’re a spy,” he spat out sounding almost hurt.

Dean wrestled the knife away from him. Stunned Bobby stood stock still waiting for Dean to make the next move. Dean held the knife back to him.

“If I were either would I do this?” he asked Bobby watched him cautiously as if waiting for a trap. As he took the knife, Dean stood hands up prepared to let Bobby attack him, just hoping that he wouldn’t aim for anything he wouldn’t need later.

Bobby watched him, waiting for something he wasn’t sure. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision.

“Dean? He asked almost hopefully, questioning his beliefs

Dean smiled “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Bobby embraced him, and Dean relaxed into the hug. He needed that.

He clapped him on the back before pulling away. “It’s good to see you, boy,” He said the truth of his words was obvious

“Yeah, you too,” he admitted. It was nice to see a friendly face after so long.

“How did you bust out?” Bobby asked still having trouble believing that he was really in front of him.

Dean shrugged not wanting to answer such a difficult question. “It’s a long story.” He said wearily.

Then suddenly before he had time to react Bobby held up this weird plastic stick.

Blinding light flashed in his face making Dean recoil away, “What the hell man?” he demanded raising his hands to shield his face.

“Sorry, can’t be too carefully,” he answered dismissively

Dean shot him a questioning look. “What’s with the rave stick?” Dean asked gesturing to the LED strobe baton Bobby had used to singe his retinas; Bobby sighed heavily “I had to make sure you weren’t a demon duplicate.”

“What like a Replicant?” Dean demanded aghast. What the hell was Bobby talking about?

Bobby chuckled cheerlessly “More like demon powered clones; the sudden light makes their black eyes show.”

Dean rubbed the back of his head anxiously. “How do you know about demons anyway?” he asked

Bobby sighed, “It’s been a long four years.” Dean took that as an answer for now; he had more important questions.

He followed Bobby into the Library, as usual there were books and things littered about the room, however there was a much larger collection of liquor bottles lining Bobby’s desk, Dean put a pin in that, another question he needed to ask.

Dean told him the cliff notes version on how he escaped that an angel took him from hell, and he escaped.

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense,” Bobby said crossing to the other side of the desk.

“What would an angel want with you, that didn’t involve a healthy dose of torture?”

Dean tensed slightly, and Bobby saw it he knew that there had been torture, but Bobby was a smart man, and he had the good graces to keep his knowledge to himself.

“I don’t know Bobby; he was shifty.” He replied Bobby sat down and stayed quiet studying something on the desk.

Dean asked the question that had been bothering him.

“Sam’s number is not working…” Dean said feigning casualness “he’s ah… he’s not…” he let the sentence trail off

“Oh, he’s alive, as far as I know,” Bobby replied vaguely

Dean released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and briefly closed his eyes as the crippling fear he held in his heart melted, “Good,” he said without thinking then Bobby’s words seemed to catch up to him.

“Wait, what do you mean as far you know?” Dean asked feeling that panic rise again.

Bobby looked away “I haven’t talked to him in years.” Bobby admitted sounding dejected

“You're kidding; you just let him go off by himself?” Dean demanded appalled

“He was dead set on it,” Bobby admitted with the same resigned tone.

“Bobby, you should've been looking after him.” Dean accused irately

Bobby glared up, and him offended “I tried.” He insisted. “These last few years haven’t been exactly easy, you know. For him or me. We had a funeral for you,” he admitted with dismay “We didn’t know if you were alive or dead.”

Dean felt himself tense. “And Sam? How did he take that? Dean wondered he could only imagine his imprisonment so soon after their fathers would eat away at the kid, not that Dean was saying he was that special, but he was the only family Sammy had left.

“Just said you weren’t dead, wouldn’t come to the funeral and said you’d laugh about it when he got you home somehow. That’s about all he said.

Suspiciously Dean cocked his head. “What do you mean?” he asked “He was quiet.” Bobby admitted thoughtfully “Real quiet. And then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found.

“Oh, damnit, Sammy.” Dean muttered resigned

“What?” Bobby wondered

“Oh, he got me home okay. But whatever he did, it is bad mojo.” Dean just knew it.

“What makes you so sure?” Bobby wondered.

Dean held up the necklace; Bobby knew that Sammy had given it to him, and he also knew that Sammy was the last person to have it.

The significance showed in his face.

“The angel had this, and if he’s to be believed he took it off a demon.”

“You think Sam made a deal?” Bobby asked shocked.

Dean nodded “It’s what I would have done, hell what I did.”

Bobby was one of the few people that knew why he allowed himself to get caught, but honestly if Sam took his imprisonment this badly he probably had an inkling something was off.

It had been simple really, very simple. Sammy was about to graduate and become a human rights lawyer, when Jess died. Sam had lost it; Dean pulled his ass out of the fire. There was more to it of course, but that was how he wound up in Hell

“We’ve got other problems too,” Dean replied pulling back his sleeve.

The bright red handprint was clearly visible,

Bobby stared openly Dean had to admit it as a little unsettling.

“He’ll be coming for me I can promise you that,” he said quietly he knew Cas wouldn’t give up that easily. He didn’t know how he would find out where he was, but he knew deep down that he would be coming for him soon.

Bobby nodded “and we’ll be ready for him.”

Dean nodded picking up one of the many empty liquor bottles scattered around “Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What are your parents out of town or something?” he wondered flippantly

Bobby eyed him pointedly, “Like I said. Last few years ain't been all that easy.”

Dean held his gaze, “right.” He replied understanding.

Dean nodded again; they had work to do if they were going to be ready for Cas.

***

Castiel stood outside of Singer Salvage yard. He knew this was the place; this is what Pamela had been trying to tell him.

It was just after sunset. The hospital had called an hour ago to let him know that Pamela was in stable condition.

Leaving her pained him, but he needed to talk to Dean. His conversation with Uriel had set a timeline. The games would start soon, and if there was any chance of finding and saving Sam before the arena, they needed to act fast. He rationalized it by saying that he wasn’t betraying his people he was repaying a debt to Dean.

It was very still as he approached, almost too still. Castiel had been in thousands of battles, he knew an ambush when he saw one and yet he carried on.

The only way to make Dean believe that he was on his side was to give up control and hope he knew enough about Dean that he wouldn’t kill him.

Cas walked slowly forward, his eyes shifting back and forth, there was plenty of cover, his line of sight was obstructed by stacks of junked cars, A human stepped in front of him he was an older man with a flannel shirt and he held a shotgun pointed at him.

“Don’t move.” He ordered Castiel stopped and raised his hands

“I mean you no harm.” He said honestly “I want to talk to Dean.”

He insisted. “Dean’s not here.” The man sneered snarky “I can take a message.”

Castiel didn’t dare give the message about his brother to anyone other than Dean.

“I need to speak to him in person.” he said quietly

It was more than the secrecy of his mission, if his people knew he was here; things would not be good for him, but he also wanted to see Dean. It had only been a day, and it felt longer. There was so much left unsaid “I’m right here.” Dean Castiel turned just in time to see Dean shoving the butt of his shotgun into Cas’s face.

Blackness overwhelmed him.

The room he woke up in was dim, he glanced around he was in an outbuilding corrugated metal walls surrounded him. He was sitting in a stiff backed wooden chair his arms were behind his back held together with metal handcuffs. Dean was leaning on a wooden bench watching him. He was leaning back insolently there was something about him that put Castiel on edge, but also intrigued him. The metal around his wrists was cool to the touch it was strangely erotic.

“Hello again, Cas.” Dean murmured, and it was that moment he realized that the tables had turned;


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay this week I had difficulty writing this chapter, may redo it at some point. id love to know what you think

***

Dean instantly felt remorse as he bashed the butt of his gun into Cas’s face, but as much as he liked the man he knew it was a bad idea to be soft on him. Angels were much stronger and sturdier than the average human, if he hadn’t taken his shot when he had the chance it was very likely that Cas would have been able to easily overpower Bobby and himself. Dean had no intention of going back to be Cas’s slave.

“That was,” Dean told Bobby. Bobby looked over at him and down at Cas

“Yeah, a little too easy.” he muttered more to himself than anyone else,

“Grab him” Bobby ordered as he reached down and grasped Cas about the feet.

They had already set up a little prison area in one of Bobby’s workshops. Bobby handed him some police issue metal handcuffs. Dean didn’t ask why Bobby had a pair; he didn’t want to know. Dean only hoped that the metal would be strong enough to hold him.

They carried him to an outbuilding; a slight purplish bruise was starting to develop on his face.

Dean stared at it puzzled, last time he bashed him over the head; the wound hadn’t even bled.

When they reached the building everything was already set up. Dean had no intention of torturing the angel, he had done more than enough of that to last him twelve lifetimes, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t let him think it.

He wanted him to tell him, where Sammy was. He wanted him to stop coming after him, and he wanted to help the resistance.

According to Bobby it was still going, it was less organized but Bobby still maintained an information hub and while not as strong as when John was in charge, it was still working.

They had already agreed that, the angel could not be left unguarded even with the restraints; they had also agreed that it was too early to involve other members of the resistance, they were unpredictable they would each take eight hour shifts, Dean had volunteered for the first shift.

His eyes ached and burned, and lack of sleep left a slight burn in the back of his throat, or that might have been the whiskey. He wasn’t going to let Bobby be the only one to take advantage of the liquor store sprouting up on his desk. He had been awake for going on a solid 48 hours he ran a tired hand over his face. His mouth tasted vaguely like an ash tray; maybe he would grab another drink before he started on his shift.

Dean and Bobby set Cas up in the chair, chaining his hands behind his back around the chair.

Bobby eyed him up and down; Dean was sure he looked like warmed over shit, but he didn’t care. Even if he went and tried to sleep he knew he wouldn’t be able to, every time he closed his eyes he could still hear that man screaming.

“Do you want me to stay with you a bit?” Bobby asked after they bound his feet with some chains.

Dean shook his head; there were a few things he wanted to ask Cas without Bobby around.

Bobby eyed him suspiciously; Bobby had been good about not asking him details of what happened between him and Cas, but it was obvious that he suspected a few things. He didn’t have the same judgmental look on his face that his father had, but there was a cautious look like he was worried about leaving Dean alone.

He turned to leave, paused a moment obviously debating on something before turning back to him

“Is there anything I need to know about you two?” He asked begrudgingly

“Like what?” Dean asked feeling his heart skip a beat. Bobby had never called him out before, he knew, John would have told him, and Dean hadn’t been the most, subtle teenager, but he and Bobby had never talked about it before.

Bobby just eyed him pointedly it was then he realized he wasn’t asking if Dean liked men, he wasn’t asking if he liked Cas even, he was asking him, if Dean could be objective, if there was something there that would keep Dean from doing his job for the resistance.

“No, nothing,” Dean said finally Bobby nodded acceptingly but not fully believing him.

“See you in eight hours,”

Dean nodded

Bobby left, and that left Dean and Cas alone.

Dean leaned casually against the workbench watching Cas; he was still unconscious.

He had a drink in one hand idly swirling the liquid in the glass; Bobby had left the bottle, so he couldn’t have been too worried about Dean’s reactions.

Cas’s face made him twinge; he hadn’t thought he hit him too hard, but the bruise was spread across his face.

It would be a while still till he was awake, that gave him way too much time to think

Bobby was right when he said it was too easy; Angels usually put up on hell of a fight

He remembered his first hunt, after his mom had died his dad lost a big part of himself, Sammy said he was obsessed, but Dean thought it was more that he was driven.

Killing angels became the most important thing in his life, second to protecting his sons, most of the time.

Dean had only been eight when he went along for his first hunt. Dean would admit that John might not have been the father of the year, but at the time Dean wanted to go, more than he cared about keeping his childhood. At the time, Dean wanted to matter,

He didn’t kill an angel till he was thirteen, but after that first hunt his dad took him on lots of them, as they performed blitzkrieg attacks on the enemy.

Dean was good at it, even as a kid he understood it. Keep your head down and do as you’re told, Hell sometimes he thought it was the only thing he was good at.

Sometimes he wondered how things would be different if his mother hadn’t died.

He tried to fight the visions that swam across his thoughts, if he closed his eyes it was almost like he was still there

He could see her, this last fuzzy image he had in his mind, her blonde hair tangled about her face, as she shouted for him to run,

They were going to the garage where his dad worked; the angels were invading in mass, there was chaos in the streets, people running and screaming. It smelled like smoke and singed hair.

He held her hand so tight he was surprised she didn’t pull away, he was so scared. In the distance, he could hear people screaming in pain, and hear the sound of explosions and gunshots.

His mom was trying to support Sammy awkwardly in one arm because she didn’t want to let him go either.

It was the middle of the day, but the smoke made it seem like sunset.

Somewhere he could hear someone crying, and Dean felt bad for them, but he wanted to cry too. It was his fault that she was killed. He had started to cry, and the sound had alerted an angel to their position crouched behind a car.

The angel came out of nowhere, Dean couldn’t remember what he looked like, as much as he tried his childish mind had only see the bright flash of armor, dark skin and angry eyes, without preamble of asking for surrender the angel had swung his sword knocking his mother to the ground.

The blow hadn’t killed her. She had a slash across her shoulder across her chest; she blocked most of the blow with her arm, but the strength of the swing broke it. Sammy fell from her arms; he was screaming loudly. Dean didn’t know if he was hurt he was terrified he didn’t know what to do. His mother was cowering at the angel’s feet. The angel glanced over to see him; he met his eyes and smiled at the expression on Dean’s face.

“Take your brother and run!” his mother shouted fear straining her voice. He remembered the horror that paralyzed him until the angel took a step towards Sammy and Dean reacted he scooped up the bawling baby and ran. He didn’t look back as he heard his mother cry out in pain. He was in tears when he reached his dad. Sammy was screeching like a banshee, and he was crying so hard it took several moments before John could calm either of them down. Sammy was bruised but fine, John tried to get Dean to tell him what happened had grabbed Dean’s arm so tight it hurt, and shook him trying to get through the fog of sobbing and tears Finally Dean’s gasping cries made some kind of sense to John as he hurried out the door.

He told Dean to wait in the shop. It was hours before he came back, and Dean had held Sammy the entire time as the hid in a closet.

Dean shuddered, he wished he could say that his Dad found the angel and took him out, but it wasn’t the case, John never saw who did it, just Dean.

Dean downed the rest of the glass in one smooth motion and poured himself another two fingers.

There was a certain amount of resentment buried there.

The warmth spread in his stomach as he felt his muscles relax for the first time in ages.

He glared over at Cas warring with how he should feel about the man.

There was a natural layer of bitterness there he didn’t trust Cas, and while Cas wasn’t the angel that killed his mom, half his family died fighting these invaders who sought to rule them. He tried not to blame Cas for what happened with Alastair, but part of him had to wonder. Yes, Alastair had tortured him before in hell but his actions before were child’s play compared to his approach the second time. Cas’s interest in him piqued Alastair’s awareness of him.

Somehow Dean felt if Cas had either left him alone to die in Hell or did not send him to a trainer he would never have seen Alastair again, and sadly rotting slowly in hell had more appeal than Alastair.

Knowing Cas was something different, from the moment he met the man all the angel ever talked about was helping him. That Cas was trying to do something for the greater good, Dean got that. Saving people hunting things was his family’s business, but he was saving people from monsters like him, and he had yet to see any proof that Cas was on his side about anything.

Dean briefly wondered why Cas hadn’t arrived with a cadre of his angel buddies.

Dean didn’t know the procedure for capturing escaped slaves, but it likely didn’t involve walking into a trap unarmed.

That was the part that bothered him, Cas had been looking around like he expected it to be a trap but rather than retreat and come back with bigger guns, he walked inside without even one of those silver daggers the angels were so fond of sporting.

Dean’ Spidey senses were tingling, among a few other senses; it just wasn’t right.

Why would Cas turn himself over, unless he was planning something?

Suddenly he heard a pained groan

Slowly he saw Cas’s head move, the angel moaned again winching, and Dean wouldn’t blame him, he had one hell of a goose egg.

Dean just leaned against the workbench watching him, if Dean was being honest Bobby was right there was something there, he thought Cas was sex on legs even all banged up, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be objective, he might just enjoy the view.

Cas opened his eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to get his bearings. He glanced around the prison not immediately seeing Dean; he leaned forward testing the restraints. He heard the metal clank together.

Dean knew the moment when Cas noticed him, they made eye contact, and it sent heat spiraling straight down to his cock.

If Cas had even half the power trip, he felt right now seeing him tied up when he collared Dean he was a better man than himself. He wanted to take advantage of the situation, but knew that it was a bad idea it was just the whiskey talking, he assured himself, but it was talking pretty loudly.

He was leaning insolently against the bench, watching Cas through hooded eyes. Maybe he had rushed the whiskey a tad. He could feel his thoughts floating through his head; it took him a moment to focus on what he wanted to say.

“Hello again, Cas.” Dean found himself saying and even to his ears the words sounded velvety seductive; he smiled. Cas’s breath hitched oddly, and Dean imagined that it was because he was turned on. It took him a moment to remember what he was supposed to ask.

Cas’s head ached, the pain was unfamiliar, and when he went to his daily regenerations his innate healing ability was doubled. As it was, he knew that it would take days for the bruise to fade.

Cas looked up Dean was watching him, something foreign in his eyes. The look made something flutter in his stomach.

Dean cleared his throat, but his voice still came out husky and shook his head slightly.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked trying to remember the purpose behind his question and not thinking about how Cas’s shirt was riding up exposing the smallest bit of his stomach from his twisting against the handcuffs.

Cas had expected the question, but not strange look in Dean’s eyes as he said it.

“I have something to tell you” he admitted before continuing when Dean’s features didn’t soften

“About your brother,”

Dean was skeptical, it seemed like whenever Cas wanted something he dangled that little bit of bait. He tried to focus, but with Cas in front of him it was nearly impossible.

           “I don’t buy it,” he said. Confidently            “I think you’re here for me.” He teased with a wicked smile.

Cas frowned slightly “Yes,” he said not catching the innuendo, watching him as if Dean was somehow he was the one who was confused.

“I have information about…”             “I think you missed me.” Dean accused teasingly taking another quick sip of his drink, as he resisted making a face; it really was cheap whiskey.

He made a mental note to remind Bobby that drinking the good stuff wasn’t a sin.

His comment was rewarded by an ever so slight blush. Dean pictured that it would spread all the way down his neck to his chest. The man would look fucking gorgeous flushed at his knees sucking his cock. He could imagine those lips wrapped around his the blush gracing his cheeks as they hollowed out as he sucked on him.

“Well, I’ll be damned. He muttered stepping forward; he frowned slightly at his unsteady gate, wow maybe it had gone to his head quicker than he thought he hadn’t exactly ate much in the past day either. His head was fuzzy, and his libido was leading the way, but he was still conscious of what he was doing he wouldn’t take it too far. He could control himself. He was sure of it.

“You did come for me.” He teased emphasizing the word as he slapped a hand on the back of Cas’s chair leaning in close.

Cas could smell the alcohol on his breath, it made him nervous, sane rational men did insane things under the influence, but his nearness intrigued him, it brought up thoughts he had been trying to ignore from the moment he met Dean. Castiel never wanted to abuse his control as master, but a small part of his brain reminded him that Dean was in control at the moment and a little thrill went through him at the thought, but it was layered with a twinge of fear. Many men in Dean’s position of power would take this opportunity to exact some revenge.

Though he doubted that Dean would use his control for anything but getting the answers, he wanted.

This was an possibility that occurred to him when he turned himself over to Dean, but he had made a promise to find Sam Winchester and he would not back out on his word, he freed Dean from hell as far as he was concerned nothing was required of Dean, the Oiad asked him to free Dean, Castiel took it as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. He planned on using Dean to solidify his reputation while enacting a request by his leader, making the promise to Dean was his own doing to curry favor with him, the fact that it did not work was of no consequence he was bound by his word.

The handcuffs didn’t hold him to the chair; he knew if he wanted that he could try to move away and yet it was exciting on some level to give over the control to Dean. The steel felt unnaturally cool against his wrists every metallic scrape against the sensitive inner portions of his writs sent an unfamiliar heat to pool in his stomach. Part of him knew he should find the cuffs abhorrent, but he didn’t.

Dean’s face was so close to him; it dominated his view until he focused on nothing else.

He had more stubble on his face than the last time he saw him his green eyes nearly glowed with a manic light. He was drunk that much was obvious by the subtle hint of alcohol on his breath to his slightly unsteady gate.

Cas wanted to trust Dean, he wanted to know that he was safe with the man that he would not be harmed by him or in his presence and yet he didn’t feel safe.

He tried to enforce some distance between them.

“Other angels are coming for you too.” He told him.

The flirtatious mask slipped a little “What are you saying?”

“They came looking for you at my villa,” he informed him Dean shook it off

“It doesn’t matter; I’ve been hunted by angels all my life.”

Cas felt a bit of anger at Dean’s callous dismissal didn’t he realize that people would be hurt?

“They burnt Pamela’s eyes out,” Castiel told him. The shock on Dean’s face told him all he needed to know Dean had no idea that this could happen.

“God Damn it,” he swore, pounding his fist against the back of the chair before angrily turning away. “I should have made her come with me.”

Dean quickly glanced back to him. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean for her to get hurt.” He said honestly.

The guilt was gnawing at him; another person hurt because of his stupidity at the angel’s hands.

All angels did was cause pain and death.

“Why are you here? Dean demanded again? His emotions felt raw, like someone had flayed him alive. He wanted to hate Cas, as much as he wanted him physically. His thoughts and desires made him hate himself. Never before had he ever hated his predilections, but wanting the enemy made him feel sick inside.

He wanted to punish Cas for it somehow, as irrational and unfair as it was somehow it had to be the angel’s fault.

Cas had a plan a way to save Sam Winchester, while saving face with the council, it was a modified version of his previous plan, but he still needed Dean as a slave, if just for appearance sake.

“I came to retrieve my slave,” Castiel replied honestly, though it was more complicated than that and somehow it was the wrong answer Dean’s tone switched from flirtatious to irritated.

“Yeah, sorry that ended the moment I walked out your door.” He said angrily. He turned away briefly showing him his back. Cas tested the handcuffs again. If it came down to it, it was possible that he could break them, but not without considerable pain on his part.

Of course, that was all the angel cared about it was all the ever cared about they were cold merciless monsters they didn’t have hearts, just plans, missions and calculations.

Cas wasn’t sure why he tried to argue the point, but some perverse part of him wanted to retain some semblance of control. He was the man’s prisoner for all intents and purposes at the moment he was at Dean’s debatable mercy and yet he continued.

“Not in the eyes on the law.” He reminded him. His breath caught as Dean leaned in closer as he set his drink down on the floor next to him his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah well, right now angel law doesn’t apply, just mine.”

His voice had just a hint of huskiness that confused him.

Dean wanted to scare him, he wanted the angel to fear him, but he was obsessed with Cas’s mouth. His comment pissed him off, but his mouth, Dean imagined that it would taste like heaven.

Part of him wanted to show Cas that he was in charge now that Cas had no control over him, that he never really did. Part of him was irrationally angry, he had lost so much and Cas while not the man that stole his family from him he was a symbol of everything he lost. His mom, his dad, Sammy, hell even poor Pamela was hurt because of this war between them.

The drunken part of his brain screamed that now was the time for revenge.

He grabbed Cas by the collar the man looked up at him surprised. The shock was interesting, but what really intrigued him was the heat beneath the gaze.

Cas had no idea what Dean was planning on doing, but he was afraid. Every shred of arousal fled. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for Dean to meet out his punishment. He was fearful.

Dean’s head whirled with naughty images. Dean never argued that he had a few kinks hell on a good day he would get a chance to demonstrate a few of them, and he had to admit Cas looked fucking sexy tied up but his desire was mixed with something darker. Cas’s people hurt him. He wanted to hurt them back. It didn’t matter that Cas had never hurt him.

Dean’s hand moved to the back of Cas’s neck and forced him to his knees.

Dean didn’t know what he was doing only that he wanted to humiliate the angel.

Cas’s felt his breathing quicken as panic slowly seeped in, terrible images of what lay ahead filled his mind. Dean was going to beat him; Dean was going to force himself on him against his will. If Cas had surrendered himself to one of his people as an enemy, those options would be the best ones. He had seen Uriel rape prisoners of war, male or female it didn’t matter to him because it wasn’t about the attraction it was about the degradation and the pain that he caused. He enjoyed the violation of everything that made them a person their dignity their consent their rights.

In the angelic state enemy slaves were treated with only violence and abuse, while Cas wasn’t as accustomed to human customs he could only assume the same would happen to him, while he knew it would be very hard for Dean to kill him even without him regenerating some form of punishment would be given. It was the way things were done among enemies, and as much as he momentarily forgot it, that was what he and Dean were, enemies. Cas prepared himself for the worst. He would submit as long as he had to, to prove that he was supplicating himself in front of his enemy to earn his trust to prove that he was not trying to trick him.

Dean dug his other hand in Cas’s hair pulling back painfully. It stung and was shameful, but it was only a minor indignity.

Cas knew that the only way to earn an enemy’s trust was abject surrender while he could fight back he did not, knowing that it would only cause more harm. He prepared himself for the pain and yet it didn’t come.

Cas opened his eyes, and Dean was back across the room leaning audaciously against the workbench as if the interplay between them never happened.

“Crawl.” He said the word was said so quietly that at first Cas wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted.

“What?” he gasped his head spinning from the sudden turn of events.

“Crawl to me,” Dean ordered carefully enunciating each word, and it was an order there was no doubt in that.

Momentarily he resisted, and he saw anger flash into Dean’s face before he awkwardly tried to crawl towards him.

His balance was off because he couldn’t use his hands as supports so his slowly shuffled across the room on his knees, his hands awkwardly held behind him. The hard concrete of the workshop floor hurt his knees, and his arms ached slightly at the stretched position he had to maintain.

When he reached him, he refused to meet his gaze.

Dean thought Cas looked sexy on his knees for him, the thought of him submitting to him was intoxicating, but his mind was more focused on seeing more of him.

Slowly he undid the buttons on Cas’s white dress shirt. Every button he undid exposed a new layer of glorious skin. Dean was so focused on his mission that it took him a moment to realize that Cas wasn’t meeting his eyes.

The thought seemed weird to him, but Dean wasn’t sure what he was really doing. His brain was trying to tell him something about this scenario, which felt off. That wanting to humiliate and hurt Cas didn’t go together with wanting his submission. His brain was a tangle of emotions this wasn’t right.

This wasn’t true submission. Cas was afraid of him.

The thought shocked him a little; Dean remembered that this wasn’t what he wanted he wanted to hurt Cas and the thoughts jumbled together in his brain. He grabbed Cas’s chin forcing him to meet his eyes. There was fear there; Dean didn’t know what to make of it.

He had wanted to even the playing field to drag Cas down to the level he was on. He wanted to hurt and humiliate him in the same way he had been hurt, but it didn’t feel right.

It was wrong to treat someone as an enemy and want them with the same breath; he needed to get out of there he needed to clear his head.

Roughly he shoved Cas to the ground and turned before rushing out of the workshop. He needed fresh air. He needed to get away from Cas before he truly lost himself. He was going down a very dark path.

Once outside he was able to breath slightly he bent over hands on his knees head between his legs as he tried to control his breathing and his overwhelming urge to vomit.

He wasn’t sure what he had been about to do. He wanted to scare and hurt Cas, but he wanted him sexually too. The angel probably thought he was going to rape him.

He shuddered. He knew how angels treated prisoners of war, and it was not pretty.

Dean lost the battle with his stomach and hurled, not sure if it was the booze or disgust in himself that made him.  

God damn it, maybe he was a monster. Alastair brought it out in him and the moment he got angry he lost control.

He was going to hurt someone who had never personally harmed him.

Cas stayed stunned laying sprawled awkwardly on the floor. His heart was still hammering in his chest, but there was a void where fear had so recently had a strangle hold on his throat.

Dean didn’t hurt him; he hadn’t taken his rightful revenge as an enemy.

Cas didn’t know what the meant going forward he just hoped he could get Dean to listen to his plan, and they could find a way to reach Sam before the games begun because time was running out.


	10. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short but I plan to post more Friday

Castiel waited for Dean to return it soon became evident that he would have a long wait ahead of him, but as a soldier he was used to waiting. There were many campaigns where he and Balthazar had been pinned down in some crevice on some god forsaken asteroid or moon and had to bide their time, avoiding enemy fire.

Balthazar was the closest thing he had to family; he had no memory of his father and only a brief flash of his mother it was likely he had other siblings or half siblings but such things were not recognized in angelic society. Records were kept to prevent inbreeding and were checked when one applied for a breeding permit, but even if he knew them, he doubted it would be the same. Balthazar had saved his life more times than he could count. Castiel could understand Dean’s loyalty to his brother, in that. He owed much to him.

He only hoped that when he returned and explained the situation to his friend that he would somehow accept and help him. Castiel knew that it was a risk, and if Balthazar felt it was too dangerous he would gladly allow him to back out.

Balthazar was a Power a low ranking soldier; Castiel had been field promoted to Seraph during the fall of Lucifer. While his position would provide some protection Balthazar would get the brunt of any action that was considered disobedient and while he would love his friend’s support the idea of the council punishing him on his account did not sit well with him.

After the fall of Lucifer, they both had been severely punished for Haziel’s dissent, yet Balthazar had gotten the worst of it because his lower rank. Balthazar never spoke of it but, Castiel knew he still retained scars from the beatings though he had never seen them. It was deemed that such punishments were not effective if the person was allowed to regenerate. Castiel still held a scar on his ribs from the savage beating, and his rank as a Seraph had protected him from worse punishment, although at the time he wished for death.

Balthazar had been the one to help him make it through, even though he had been injured more severely he forced Castiel to eat, and when it was allowed Balthazar shoved him in the regeneration pod himself, with a broken arm, even though he was not allowed to heal himself.

On his way here, Cas couldn’t help but think of his friends reaction to him turning himself over to the enemy he would have called his all kinds of a fool and done his best to talk him out of it, but ultimately he would have gone with him because he was loyal to a fault. Cas had left so quickly he hadn’t had time to inform his friend of his plan, but he knew that regardless of the danger Balthazar would always be on his side. Balthazar was always on his side.

Dean stayed outside for a very long time trying to gather himself, images of the things he did in hell flashing through his mind. He ignored them and stared up at the stars instead. To think Cas came from somewhere out there. He suddenly felt very tired as if the weight of the entire world fell on his shoulders.

The air was cool he could hear the swirl of dead leaves; it must be fall he guessed then he sighed heavily. He had been in prison a long time, sometimes he wondered if he was even human, he hadn’t exactly been the most civilized man when he went in, and staying alive in hell wasn’t just a matter of not dying. Even before Alastair he had hurt people in hell just he had always justified it as self-defense.

He knew Cas would try to leave, but he couldn’t escape unless he went through his door. He sank down leaning his back against the door. He laid his arms against his knees and just kept looking up at the stars. He remembered growing up he and Sammy would take the car out to the middle of nowhere and just watch the stars. That was almost as painful as not knowing where Sammy was, not knowing what happened to his baby.

Sammy had to be alive. If Dean was, the only one left there wasn’t any reason to go on. Cas said something about Sam, but he wasn’t sure if he could believe him.

The whole goddamned world made no sense maybe it would have been better if he just stayed dead to the world in hell. He dismissed the thought. He had a job to do.

Shakily he stood. His legs were still telling him that he had been sitting there for a long time.

He opened the door and found Cas where he left him sprawled awkwardly on the hard concrete.

“Tell me about my brother.” He said quietly

Cas glanced up to see Dean he had darkness gathered about him like a mantle he was almost like an entirely different man. Sadness lingered about him like a second skin. He walked straighter, and he seemed to have cleared his head.

Cas knew better than to be subtle.

“Uriel asked me to put you in the arena.” He said firmly.

Dean showed no surprise whether he felt it or not Cas couldn’t tell. He looked as tired as Cas felt.

“And?” Dean asked his voice dry

“He said it would be interesting to see what a pair of Winchesters in the arena could do.” He admitted trying to put as little inflection in his voice as possible. He wanted to show Dean only the facts he didn’t want him to think he was trying to lead him to any false conclusions or trick him in any way.

Dean flinched ever so slightly his hands clenched into fists at his side. Cas wasn’t sure if it was the thought of his brother in the arena or the fear that Cas would have forced him into it.

“And you’re sure its Sam?” he asked cautiously

Cas shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “But why would he lie?”

Dean turned away. He took a swig of the whiskey and Cas held his breath, but he simply swished the liquid around in his mouth before spitting it out.

“And where do you come into this?” he asked finally

Cas tried to stand so he could look him in the eyes. Dean grabbed him about the elbow and hauled him up. He wobbled awkwardly against him and guilt flashed into Dean’s eyes for the briefest of a second.

“I promised id help you find your brother.”

“And you’re a man of your word.” he murmured speculatively watching him very closely.

“Yes.” He replied meeting his eyes. Dean scrutinized his face searching for something Cas wasn’t sure.

He must have seen the truth in his words because he let him go and spun from him.

“And how are you going to do that?” He asked cautiously

“I go back as your slave?” Dean spat “You come back as my partner.” Cas assured quickly

Dean said nothing for several moments just watched Cas

“Why did you pull me out?” he asked suddenly it was the same doubt he had seen when he first offered to take him from hell. Dean didn’t think he was good enough to be saved.

Cas wanted to comfort him. He wanted to tell him that he was a good honest man that he didn’t deserve to be trapped in the middle of an alien war that he deserved a family that he deserved to be happy, but Castiel said none of those things. He simply told him his truth.

“The Oiad asked it of me.” Dean nodded absently absorbing the information and coming to conclusions.

“And this is this part of his plan?” Dean asked referring to Sam.

“I don’t know.” Cas admitted quietly. He was in the dark as much Dean; no one had seen or heard from the Oiad in a very long time.

“What do you know?” Dean demanded angrily. Castiel decided that it was time to share all of what he knew with Dean.

“Lucifer.” Castiel spat out. Dean gave him a quizzical look “Lucy who?”

Cas sighed his arms ached from being in the cuffs. Dean must have seen that for he huffed frustrated and fished in his pockets for the keys. Surprised Cas held still as he freed his arms.

The metal had chaffed at his wrists, but he was otherwise uninjured.

“Lucifer,” Cas repeated wearily. “Was an archangel, a leader of our people; he wanted us to go back to our home planet.” Dean scoffed “Sounds like an upstanding guy, where’s the rub?”  

“The fact that he is more than willing to kill everyone on earth to make that happen,”

Dean sobered. “And what about ole Lucy then?”

“His rebellion was defeated, and he was imprisoned, but recently there have been whispers of him regaining power, and no one can tell how. It was what instigated the current peace treaty between the demons.”

Dean said nothing just watched him. “I suspect the Oiad plans are regarding him.” Cas finished.

“Oh shit.” Dean gasped.

***

It was a shit storm; Balthazar paced his villa frustrated by his ignorance and inability to help the situation. Cas had disappeared; he had dropped everything and left that was nearly two days ago. His place was mess and judging by the look of the door it was a tactical retrieval squad, Gabriel wasn’t sharing a damned thing, hell for all he knew the angel council had already BBQ Cas’s wings extra crispy, and Balthazar had no idea what he had even done.

He could only assume that it had everything to do with that damned Dean Winchester.

Aside from his looks the man was more trouble that he was worth. Of course, Cassie would be the type of man incapable of having a no strings attached shag. He had already left a dozen voice mails on both Cassie’s and Gabe’s cellphones, to no avail. The pesky Archangel was ducking his calls, and he could only hope that Cas was doing the same otherwise, Balthazar shook his head.

He didn’t want to think about the otherwise.

He had already tried numbing his worries away with copious amounts of liquor, but sadly he was wasting his alcohol the worry was still there under the surface he just lost all his ability to filter his thoughts.

If the angelic council wasn’t to blame for Cassie’s disappearance than it meant he didn’t trust him enough with his plans to let him know ahead of time, and that hurt, more than it should. Cassie had always been the type to have a plan; he wasn’t exactly the impulse type.

   Balthazar knew that Cassie wasn’t telling him things, about his real reasons from freeing Dean from prison. Sure part of his story had been true yes, he took Dean as a prize because he was squeamish about keeping a slave, and he knew that Dean would be the last slave he ever needed. While he had not explicitly told him this, Balthazar was observant, and he knew his friend.

Still it hurt that Cassie was leaving him out of his life, besides maybe Gabe on a good day, Cassie was the only person he really cared about, and for all he knew he was being tortured.

It bothered him immensely that if he had thrown the urge to protect his own neck out the window Cassie might still be ok. A tactical strike like this could only have been ordered by an archangel.

Frustrated and just drunk enough not to give a damn Balthazar grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

A quick walk to his brother's might get him the answers that he deserved.

They were technically half-brothers, since they shared fathers, but all angels were meant to treat one another as an equal, Gabe had always had a soft spot for him. No one knew they were blood related not even Cassie.

Balthazar remembered his investiture, when Gabe hesitantly took up the role of archangel days before Lucifer fell. It was a very long time ago, but he remembered the events that followed because it was the closest they had ever come to having a fight until now.

It was the day; Gabe swore allegiance to the angelic order. They ordered him disavow all previous convents that he was loyal only to the Oiad and his fellow archangels.

They then ordered him to reveal any information he was privy to that might affect the current archangels and their rule.

He remembered it like it was yesterday the bitter betrayal still stung. It was from then on that Gabe was an archangel first and his brother second. He had recently been made aware that this order had not changed.

His brother’s betrayal stung more than the other’s Balthazar was not well liked by any of the other archangels. As he walked towards Gabriel’s villa, he knew ancient history would only cloud his judgment.

As he arrived at the villa only years of carefully maintained nonchalance kept him from banging on the door like a madman.

The servant opened the door and hesitated when he saw Balthazar; it was obvious his brother had ordered his servants to turn him away.

Feigning more drunkenness than he felt he pushed his way past the servant, feeling a bit of remorse as the human fell to the ground over powered by his angelic strength.

“Gabe!” he shouted with an affected drunken slur    “Come drink with me, brother!” no one would suspect they were truly related, but Gabriel would know they threat when he heard it. It was the only aspect that he had not revealed to the council while he had betrayed Balthazar’s trust in telling the council something he had told Gabriel in private; he had not betrayed their relationship, for both their sakes.

The servant closed the front door and either for their own physical safety or as job security they scattered allowing him to barge unannounced into his brother’s sanctuary. Once inside he paused taken back, there was synthy music playing over the speakers with a jazzy beat he recognized from a human vice known as Casa Erotica Gabe was casually dressed in a sleeveless white tank shirt and red satin boxer shorts.

Off to the side stood an alarmingly decadent array of desserts and treats some of them including two women languidly lounging on the sofa a brunette and a blonde wearing lingerie and heals.

He had a flute of champagne in one hand  

To his credit Balthazar recovered quickly he had after all been in much more awkward sexual settings.

“          Trying to numb the pain?” he asked his brother Gabe smiled.

“Any way I can.” He agreed the tension was palpable Gabe had been avoiding him and if this downward spiral into debauchery was any indication he thought they were all fucked. Joyous

“You mind if we have a moment alone?” Balthazar asked stiffly.

“You heard him ladies,” Gabe ordered waving the women away.

Gabe used a remote to turn off the music, the sudden halt of the music made the silence seem unbearably loud.

“Does the council have Cassie?” Balthazar asked. Gabe rolled his eyes “I should have guessed this was about him.” he groused idly taking a sip of his champagne.

“Answer me brother,” Balthazar demanded Gabriel whirled on him indignantly

“You watch your tone brother.” he growled the last word through clenched teeth.

“I defended your actions to the council once for that man; don’t make me do it again.”

Gabe turned away from him laying his hands against the wall.

“Does the council have Castiel?” Balthazar tried again for a more civil tone.

Gabriel said nothing at first just staring into the wall. Balthazar was on the verge of asking again when he finally answered.

“No,” he said quietly still leaning against the wall as if it was his only means of support.

Balthazar let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“As far as I know,” Balthazar froze “What?”

“I give up brother,” Gabe muttered to the wall. “I resigned, I am tired of seeing my brother’s fight” he whispered “of watching them turn on each other, Tear at each other's throats, and I can’t do it any longer.”

“Now you claim to value your brotherly love over being an archangel?” he demanded horrified

Balthazar drew off his black jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his gray v neck shirt he didn’t need to look to know what was there neither did his brother. His voice was deadly quiet his tone rancorous

“Because of you I was branded a traitor!” he shouted the words held back for so long they almost didn’t feel real.

Gabriel spun fury and indignation marring his expression “You were a traitor!” he roared sounding just as hurt.

“I know!” Balthazar howled wretchedly. His voice was quaking with repressed emotion.

“But you were my brother,” he bemoaned “What I told you, what happened to Haziel, it was in confidence.”

Gabriel refused to meet his eyes. “I did what I thought was right.” He responded Balthazar said nothing

He deserved the punishment he received he never doubted that, but his brother’s betrayal cut deep.

“Castiel is a lucky man, for the loyalty you give him,” Gabe said with a bitter laugh,“If I wasn’t your brother I’d be jealous.”

Balthazar said nothing; it wasn’t a topic he discussed. It wasn’t even one he thought about.

He just kept to his routine the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else.

“What is going on?” he asked Gabe

“I told you before, the end of the world.”

“What are you saying?” he demanded why was he suddenly talking in riddles?

“Someone is going to try to free Samhain.”

Balthazar remembered the demon from the battle with Lucifer; he was powerful but nearly blind. His psychic abilities were stronger than many of the other demons, and he was captured because he led an army to free Lucifer, a thousand years ago.

“When?” Balthazar demanded confused by the turn of events he felt raw, like someone ran sandpaper on all his nerves.

“The thirty-first,” Gabe replied.

Today was the twenty-ninth that left only two days.

“What happens if we don’t stop them?” he found himself asking.

Gabe just shrugged, “There are millions of ways to free Lucifer, this fight is coming whether we want it or not. It’s just a matter of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The version of Samhain I'm using is the supernatural version of course not the pagan version


	11. 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd tell you my excuses for not writing but they are numerous and not very good so I'll just leave it. I ended up expanding this part anyway I was going to do something with Samhain in this chapter but now its the next one.

“There is no way in hell I am letting you out of my sight, and even less if you think I’m letting you go back with this angel!”

Bobby shouted this was an ongoing argument. One Dean was beginning to question if he would win. They were in the kitchen Cas was sitting uncomfortably in the library, pretending he couldn’t hear their heated conversation. Bobby insisted that if he was going to be unchained the least they could do was keep an eye on him. Bobby ran his hand over his head pulling his hat off so he could run his fingers over his hair.

“What did he say to you in eight hours that made you lose your goddamned mind?” he demanded.

It was early morning it just coming up on three days since he escaped Cas’s villa, and he was making plans to go back. It was the 30th of October; before he went to hell he would have been making plans to hit up a bar on Halloween it was always a treasure trove of semi-naked people looking for a good time, that he was usually more than ready to provide. Today he had bigger decisions on his mind.

“He told me the truth,” Dean growled emphasizing each word; it wasn’t like it was the twentieth time Bobby had asked him or anything

“Don't try to con a conman.” Bobby insisted frustrated.

“I told you everything that happened.” Dean insisted throwing up his hands in frustration, feeling a twinge of doubt as he said it, he hadn’t mentioned his lapse in judgment, but that was none of Bobby’s business and he was sure that he would rather not know about it.

“How can you be sure he isn’t lying?” Bobby wondered pointedly Dean sighed Bobby had a point, and he wished he could explain it in a way that made sense. Every rational part of his brain screamed that he shouldn’t trust Cas, but it was also his brother

“Its Sammy.” Dean insisted

Bobby’s face softened for an instant. “You have the biggest blind spot when it comes to your brother.” He said quietly.

“I know,” Dean whispered, “I still gotta go after him,” he maintained

“Not with this angel you don’t, let me get ahold of Ellen and Jo…”

Dean paused there was unfinished business between him and Jo, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but then again when did he ever have a relationship that worked out even just a little.

“No,” Dean insisted. Last time Jo went out with him she nearly died, and while their relationship ended before it ever really started there was no way he was dragging her back into this.

Bobby must have gotten some inkling why he was upset because he continued.

It was the same look he gave Dean when he told him Sammy went off on his own, a pitying but dismissive look.

“A lot has changed in the past four years Dean; Jo is an amazing hunter.”

Dean knew that Bobby must believe it, he wasn’t exactly easily impressed, and he had been around from the beginning fighting angels, if Jo could hold her own Bobby would know it.

“It’s better if I go in alone less risk to the resistance.” He said firmly.

Bobby gave him a dirty look. “If you want you can maintain a visual in the city, set up shop there and keep an eye on me, as you put it.”

If Dean had his way, they wouldn’t get one hundred feet of Cas’s villa he wouldn’t give them a reason to,

“I still think you need to quit being an idjit.” Bobby groused, but it was more out of worry than actual disapproval.

Dean knew he should be easier on the man he had thought he was dead and while Dean wasn’t being self-important, Bobby had lost the same amount of people as he did it was a shock to get one back.

“Listen Bobby, I’m going with my gut on this one cause its Sammy, but you know I can handle myself.”

Bobby nodded slowly like he didn’t want to agree. “It still doesn’t add up,” Bobby complained

“What doesn’t?” he asked noticing that Bobby was switching gears somehow.

“The angel took your necklace off a demon who must have taken it from Sammy, but now an angel claims to have him. One angel is lying and if you believe your angel…” his stomach did flip flops at Bobby’s words. His angel?

“That means the other one might be lying, and that doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

Dean nodded. He knew in his gut that Cas was telling the truth, but it didn’t make sense that the other angel would lie to him like that.

“I don’t know Bobby,” Dean admitted sadly. “But it’s our only lead.”

Bobby nodded. “We’ve gone in over less info.”

I’ll just call Ellen and Jo and have them meet us there. ” Dean made a face and flinched when Bobby noticed. It was going to be a long drive back to California.

***

Balthazar was dreaming, he rarely dreamed, too much alcohol, too many late nights.

When he did dream, he was usually drowning in the loving arms of some woman, or man. When you live thousands of years, you like to keep your options open. This dream was something different it had the taste of a memory. He was walking through some large open corridor. There were windows and through the windows he could see the stars. He was back on the Nevaeh, the ship that brought his people to earth. He was in handcuffs, and he wasn’t in the bedroom, so it didn’t bode well.

He knew where the memory dream was taking him, and he tried to turn back, but some invisible force pushed him forward.

 

The hall of justice on their ship Nevaeh filtered into view. It was the most impressive part of the ship, where they wined and dined dignitaries or sentenced prisoners. It was an open hall with massive ornate dark columns. The ship was made of a metallic alloy native to his homeworld that looked like air brushed deep midnight blue steel. It added darkness to the room only lit by a few halogen torches.  

The raised dais where the archangels sat in judgment held a conspicuously empty seat.

Lucifer had fallen; his rebellion had been quashed with a series of bloody battles on neighboring planets as they made their way towards earth. Castiel had been sentenced and beaten Haziel, and the other Lucifer supporters had been executed; now it was his turn for sentencing.

“You Balthazar Roché stand accused of providing false information that resulted in the death of your fellow angel, Haziel” His brother spoke the words with no emotion utterly toneless, but there were deep accusations in his eyes.

“How do you plead?” Raphael asked sounding mildly bored. He wasn’t looking at him he was inspecting papers on his desk, this sentencing meant absolutely nothing to him, Balthazar was a nuisance nothing more than an insect buzzing in his ear, he wanted this proceeding over with there were still many more to reach. Gabriel didn’t watch him as passively as Raphael His brother knew the details from his own mouth it was pointless to lie.

“Guilty.” He admitted though it was more complicated than that.

Michael stared down at him; his eyes were like silver daggers glaring at him, while he was the eldest archangel he looked little more than a teenager, no one knew why or how he managed this feat, there were rumors that he used Demon stasis technology to preserve his body and stop aging, although many doubted it.

His sandy brownish hair and young features belied his coldness; this man would easily sentence his own brother to death for treason if it came to that. Rumors had it he almost had, but Lucifer had been sentenced to life imprisonment orders from the Oaid himself.

Balthazar prepared himself for a harsh sentencing he was not opposed to death; it beat life imprisonment the answer he received, surprised him.

Rather than kill him outright, they chose, beating. If he survived he would be branded a traitor, if not it his death would be quick.

While he wasn’t grateful for his sentence, he could not regret that they had left him alive, if the court had been a more understanding entity perhaps he would have received leniency for while his actions were that of a traitor betraying a fellow member of the angelic army, his intentions had not been for anyone to be harmed.

The punishment hurt, more than anything in his life it hurt, two angels took turns whipping him from every conceivable angle. He was lucky on so many levels that he hadn’t lost his favorite bit of anatomy, but they had been more interested in cracking the whip so hard against his chest that it broke his ribs.

To think an errant quip spoken in a drug induced jealously-warped rant landed him here.

He had been intoxicated, what his people lacked in alcohol they made up for in mind altering drugs, and jealous of what Haziel had and he spoke out of turn, he accused the man of affiliations he wasn’t sure were true and ended up being patently false. He accused him of a great many things, including cowardice, insincerity, stupidity and whatever insult his numbed brain could conjure and yet all that mattered was he accused him of being a traitor when perceived loyalty mattered more than truth.

He confessed his crime to his brother unable to cope with watching Castiel suffer believing the worst of his lover and the best of his immoral friend.

Castiel didn’t know while he might have accused Haziel of being a coward in truth Balthazar knew he was more so, he couldn’t risk Castiel’s hating him.

He woke with a gasp his breathing irregular his body soaked in sweat.

Ever since his conversation with Gabriel the dreams were back, languidly he stood and stalked naked to the liquor cabinet, whoever was in his bed stirred at his movements, he didn’t care. If they woke up it would be easier to tell them to leave. He wasn’t sure what time of day it was, probably early morning, but it didn’t really matter.

He reached for the first bottle he found and took a lengthy swallow. The scars had mostly faded from his long ago punishment. Little whispery white lines appeared scattered randomly across his skin only visible in certain light. The only damning evidence was the brand on his shoulder.

Still Balthazar was fine being a traitor to the angelic state, there was a war coming and he needed to start choosing sides, his betrayal to Castiel ate at him more than anything else.

He had long ago come to the conclusion that, his feelings for Cassie were… complicated and Balthazar preferred things to be easy.

Castiel had his friendship and his loyalty; that was the best he could offer, so it was all he offered.

He could only hope that one day when the truth came out, because the truth always did; Castiel could forgive him.

“Come to bed.” Someone ordered. Balthazar ignored them taking more swigs from the bottle

The emptiness that ate away at his heart was restless, drinking usually quieted the pangs for things he knew he never really could have, he wasn’t the type of person to settle, he was a wanderer and maybe it was time he moved on.

***

Dean shifted uncomfortable in the seat, god he hated not driving, he knew he should sleep that was the reason Bobby took over driving, but he missed his baby, he knew the rhythm her wheels made against the road the hum of her tires, the feel of her seats, he wish he knew what happened to her, Bobby said Sammy took her when he was arrested.

He only hoped she wasn’t somewhere collecting rust.

He could hear Cas shift uncomfortably in the back seat. They had been driving all day; he was sure the angel was cramped and tired of being awkwardly handcuffed in the back seat.

Dean didn’t want to worry about the angel’s comfort; he wanted to hate him, like he did with the other angels, but he didn’t.

“You still alive back there?” he barked trying not to let his concern come out. Bobby gave him an odd look yet said nothing.

Yeah, ok he was starting to like the guy, sue him. He wasn’t half bad, for an angel.

He seemed smart and loyal, if to the wrong people, he was dedicated, and kind, Dean had to admit he always used violence as a last resort with him, he couldn’t say the same thing about himself, sometimes he used violence as his first and second.

For most of his life, it was easier to shoot first and ask questions later.

It was hard to ask questions if you were dead, admittedly it was hard to answer them as well, but Dean knew it wasn’t a perfect system.

“Yes, I am alive.” Cas replied in his stiff gravelly voice. He always took things so literally; Dean wondered if all angels were like that or if it was just Cas.

As much experience as he had with angels he didn’t exactly have a lot of conversations with them that didn’t involve someone screaming out in pain.

“Are you…” Dean cleared his throat trying to fight back the embarrassment his line of questioning would bring him with Bobby here.

“…comfortable?”

There was a soft metallic clink Dean glanced back in the rearview mirror, he was sitting in the middle of the back seat a lapbelt kept him strapped to the seat, his arms partially akimbo as his hands were still cuffed behind his back. There was a curious expression on his face. Finally, he answered very precisely

“The cuffs are not cutting off any blood flow to vital areas.”

It wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but he nodded.

“Not exactly what I asked.” Cas met his eyes in the mirror as if trying to judge his intentions. Hesitantly Cas continued very quietly. Dean had to turn down the radio to hear him.

“My shoulders ache.” He answered in a very small voice as if voicing complaints was new to him.

Dean assumed as such, he had been in that position before they had been driving like that for nearly twelve hours and they still had another fourteen or so to go.

Dean looked at Bobby who seemed to easily accept the fact that Dean had a civil relationship with the enemy without questions; Dean assumed the questions would come later without said enemy nearby.

“I’ll pull over at the next stop,” Bobby grumbled. “Need gas,” he offered ostensibly

Dean wasn’t sure if they were in Utah or Nevada, but Bobby was able to pull off the highway and into the darkest dingiest gas station.

Dean leapt out of the car the instant it stopped moving, he never felt trapped when he was driving his car, but as a passenger he always had to fight the urge to get out and stretch his legs.

Dean walked to the back seat and reached back to help Cas out of the car.

Cas jumped slightly as Dean’s fingers ran along the inside of the lapbelt reaching for the buckle awareness prickling at his senses. Once that was done he helped him lean forward so that he could undo the cuffs.

Feeling returned to his numb arms in a series of jabbing stinging needle like sensations Dean watched him knowingly as he tried to shake away the feelings.

Cas watched him suspiciously; Dean’s compatriot Bobby had agreed in part to his plan, but he still had many doubts, and these doubts left Cas a prisoner until they reached their destination.

Cas was not sure of their current location; he didn’t have much to go on, as far as a way to identify the location. The stars simply told him he was in North America a fact he already knew.

“Where are we?” he asked Dean shrugged. “Half way back to California,” Cas nodded disappointed. He was not looking forward to another “half” of the drive he had just experienced.

The terse silence and the hum of the wheels was only broken up by an occasional song on the radio, which more often than not dismissed it because Dean deemed it unworthy.  

His arms and legs were a bit stiff, but it was to be expected, he had been transported under worse conditions, if perhaps more spacious.

“Come on,” Dean said with a jerk of his head in the direction of the store.

With trepidation Cas followed him, Dean strode confidently towards the store assured that he would follow him. The storefront seemed questionable; the gas pumps were not well illuminated, and trash littered the parking lot, in the bottom corner of the window there was a small circle surrounded by flame. It might have gone unnoticed by many, but Cas recognized the symbol. This establishment supported the revolution.

Dean nodded slightly to the cashier, but there was no recognition on his face. Instead, he began walking amongst the isles.

“I wonder if they have pie?” he asked absently to no one in particular. Cas watched as he looked through the bags assembled before him on the shelves.

Casually he grabbed one and tossed it towards him. “Catch,” he called out.

Awkwardly he caught the object, rotating it so that he could see the front. “What is a ding dong?”

Dean grinned wolfishly “I think I’ve waited my whole life for you to ask” he teased with a wink. “I will introduce you to the wonderful pleasure of junk food.”

Cas was still confused but rather that ask he just followed him.

He piled a few other bags in his arms Cas followed him dutifully not sure of the point.

Dean was trying to keep it casual, but Cas looked like such a cute little lost puppy buried under the pile of necessary junk food. It didn’t help that he kept wondering what kind of food the angel would like. He didn’t know that much about him.

Bobby finished filling up the tank and came inside. He eyed the stack of snack goodies dubiously.

“Is there anything that won’t kill me in there?” he asked resigned.

Dean pulled forth a piece of jerky. “Maybe this?” Bobby just shrugged and took the food.

Dean placed the items on the cabinet, the man behind the register shot Cas a suspicious look. Even all rumpled Cas looked like an angel with his white shirt askew blue tie and slacks. It was still very formal. Dean scanned the store and found a solution tossing the item on the register with the rest of his purchases.

The man rang up everything all the while watching Cas. Finally Dean grabbed the collar of his shirt pulling it forward to expose his tattoo. It was convenient in times like this if not all the time.

“He’s with me.” He insisted meeting the guy’s eyes. He nodded.

Cas marveled at their interplay. It was obvious the man found him uncomfortable somehow. Likely he guessed that he was of angelic origin, his people didn’t exactly take pains to assimilate. Dean defended him.

He was still struggling with the idea as he walked out with him to the car when Dean thrust something into his hands. It was some sort of tan cloth. He unfolded it slowly; it was a tan trench coat. The fabric was still a little stiff since it was new.

“Might help you blend better.” Dean murmured.

Cas frowned down at the garment. Dean gave him something; he couldn’t recall a situation where an enemy fed their enemy and gave them gifts.

“Thank you.” Cas pulled the jacket on over his clothing. It felt warmer.

“Balls,” Bobby exclaimed drawing his eyes over to the man.

Dean frowned obviously knowing the reason for his outcry.

“Hey, Cas why don’t you get in the car,” Dean his eyes on Bobby. “ Bobby and I gota talk.”

Castiel waited for Dean to replace the handcuffs but when he did not he carefully returned to his position in the back seat.

“Care to tell me what is going on between you two?” Bobby asked. The moment Cas closed the car door.

Dean stalked a few feet away from the car, still in sight, but not close enough that Cas could overhear anything being said.

“Like I said before Bobby there is nothing going on between me and Cas… tiel.”

“Bullshit,” Bobby sworn “If you’re not lying to me you’re lying to yourself.”

“What are you saying?” Dean asked nervously

“Something I should have said years ago.” He groused.

Dean’s heart pounded faster. “I’ve known you were gay bi whatever you wanna call it since you were sixteen, and that’s never mattered before. You like who you like and maybe your daddy wasn’t supportive which is why you’ve always felt the need to keep it quiet around me, but if you’re having trouble keeping a clear head because your attracted to him I need to know about it. I’m not prying into your life, but he’s the enemy.” Bobby reminded him.

Dean felt emotion build up in his throat nearly choking him, bobby accepted him, but of course he would, Bobby wasn’t his dad, he just wanted him safe. Still Dean was having trouble thinking of Cas as the enemy.

“He is on our side.” Dean reminded Bobby. The older man nodded. “Yeah, that may be true for now, but this is a war Dean what makes you think if push comes to shove he won’t choose his own side.”

Dean said nothing; he wasn’t sure why he believed in Cas, but he did he just hoped he wasn’t putting his faith in the wrong place.

Cas watched them argue, they were obviously talking about him he could tell by the looks Dean sent his way. He wasn’t sure what that meant for him. Likely Bobby was still mistrustful of his plan.

If he had to admit it, he had a few doubts of his own. Suddenly there was a loud buzzing coming from the compartment in the front.

It was likely coming from his cellphone. Someone had taken it off him when he was unconscious, and he had seen Bobby place it there when he got in the car.

Cas shot a look outside to verify that they were still talking.

He stretched forward and reached into the compartment. He grabbed the phone and answered it, “Castiel?” he heard Raphael asked

Knowing that the archangel would not call him without very important reason he replied.

“Yes,” “I won’t ask you where you have been there is no time for that. I need you to stop the demons.” “What must I do?” Castiel asked.

Dean threw himself into the passenger’s seat emotionally frustrated. Bobby went back inside to settle up, for the gas. “I need to make a stop,” Castiel said firmly.

Dean noticed that he was holding his cell phone. “What?” he asked confused.

Cas was staring at him, “Someone is going after the seals, he said meaningfully but the meaning was lost on Dean.

“What?”

“Before Lucifer, was imprisoned he was helping the demons fight his own people as a way to gain power and an army, and yet many of the populace supported him in spirit if not in action.” He paused. Watching to be sure Dean was absorbing what he was saying.

“When he was captured and imprisoned there was an analysis performed on what people or situations would cause the populace to demand his freedom. Imprisoning him was not a popular decision; the analysis flagged certain seals or more appropriately certain people and events that would trigger a vote calling for his release or dangerous members of his civil war army that would free him with violence.”

He shifted uncomfortably moving the phone guiltily in his hands glancing away and back again. “Someone is going after the seals; the most recent one is Samhain, a demon who worked with Lucifer, if he is freed there is an army of demons that would gather at his side to help free Lucifer.”

“What makes this my problem?” Dean asked already fairly sure he knew. “Whoever is going to free Samhain their goal is to free Lucifer,” “and that means bloody civil war on my planet yeah I got that the first time you explained it.” Dean finished.

Cas nodded. “And where are we going?”

“Eureka, Nevada”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been to Eureka but I tried to use real buildings as a way to make it feel more realistic so the motel and the bar are real I have no idea if that is what they are really like though. oh and yeah I tweaked the dialogue a bit to make it work

Bobby hadn’t exactly been happy about the detour, but he didn’t argue when Dean slid into the driver’s seat and hauled ass towards the middle of nowhere. Cas had said the remoteness of Nevada was partially why is was where they decided to imprison Samhain there rather than in hell or another prison.

They had converted an old mining shaft into an underground prison system. That was where they were keeping Samhain. Cas was being rather tight-lipped about Samhain, about what made him so dangerous it made Dean a bit shifty.

Another problem was the angels had no idea who was coming after him; their information said nothing about who the person was only that the threat was imminent, it would happen tomorrow, Dean glanced at the clock on the dashboard, today. The angels wanted Cas to survey the nearest town Eureka, to look for any suspicious parties or blatant displays of force, meaning that they wanted him to blend in and not make and angel out of himself.

Something Dean was sure Cas didn’t know how to do. It was up to him to help him blend in; he was taking the angel to a Halloween party. Dean had no doubt that when looked around Eureka he would ask around and have no trouble finding a party. He looked around at the small town; it was Halloween there had to be something.

Bobby had taken a bus in Salt Lake City to California so that he could meet up with Ellen and Jo and they could set up a base and be ready when Cas and Dean arrived, other than make a few veiled observations that Dean needed keep his head about him and be careful he left without any issue. Dean’s lack of sleep had finally caught up to him as they walked into the Ruby Hill motel.

The motel was of the old style, the place only had eleven rooms they had two options singles which had a queen bed and doubles with two double beds, and they were out of doubles, of course. At the moment Dean didn’t care, yeah he probably could of spent a bit more and gone to another motel, but he didn’t care he was tired he would sleep in the bathtub if it came down to it.     

“I’ll take it.” He muttered. The man glanced over at Cas and then back at Dean; it was a little passed three thirty in the morning, he gave him a dirty look as he finished the paperwork. “One queen it is,” judgy bastard Dean thought to himself testily as he took the key and went to room seven.

He was so tired; he hadn’t slept well since the last time he was at Cas’s maybe the sedative really had been a good thing.

Cas followed Dean to the room with some apprehension. The idea of sharing a bed made him nervous. Not that he expected Dean to doing anything untoward, it was the closeness.

Dean was tired he could tell by the shuffle of his feet and the drooping of his shoulders, but he was wide awake having spent all that time in the car resting he was anxious for something to do but he knew he would simply be trapped in the room until morning.

Dean kicked off his shoes and shed his jacket as he walked inside. Judging by the lack of a weird smell it was a relatively clean room. He hadn’t had to pay by the hour, another good sign. He moved over to the bed; it had a burgundy coverlet that didn’t even look stained. While it didn’t have magic fingers the bed was comfortable, pulling back the sheets he could see they were clean.

Now came the hard part. Could he trust Cas not to take off the moment he fell asleep. Yeah they were working together, to free Sammy and since Dean was in the gig of saving people they were working together to stop whoever wanted to free Samhain, but Bobby made one thing clear, their working together needed to be on his terms. He glanced around the room for something sturdy there wasn’t much in the way for furniture except for the bed a small nightstand and a stand for the television.

“Take your shoes off and get comfortable,” Dean ordered

Cas shed his new jacket and shoes. Suddenly Dean marched over and grabbed his wrist Cas froze before allowing Dean to lead him to the bed. Cas’s heart skipped a beat at the direction they were headed, his pulse skyrocketed when Dean closed the handcuff around his wrist his body forced him on bed and Dean locked the other end of the handcuffs to the plain vertical black metal bars of the headboard leaving Cas lying on his back practically beneath him.

Cas knew he was breathing hard, he knew he should find the situation frightening but it wasn’t while he wasn’t sure of Dean’s intentions he knew there were not to harm him. If that were the case, he would have the night he first came to him when he had been drunk. While he had expected the advance it was not unwelcome, the thought surprised him as did his intense physical reaction he was stiff as a board.

Dean realized that maybe he should have told the angel what he intended judging by the nervous stunned look on his face he was kind of freaked out but he hadn’t told him on the off chance that he would resist.

“I just wanted to make sure you’d stay put.”

He carefully stepped back, and the man’s features relaxed, Dean figured under the circumstances Cas would prefer this rather than being chained under the sink. He was so tired he didn’t wanna mess with and argument he just wanted to get three to four hours.

Cas watched as Dean pulled his shirt off over his head. While Cas had seen him naked when he had been injured, he had always avoided looking at him, he didn’t now.

Dean was all muscle, the smooth expanse of skin drew his eyes, and he couldn’t stop them from trailing over his body.

He watched as Dean moved about the room getting ready for bed the muscles in his back shifting as he bent to pick up his duffle bag full of his things.

He had never had sex, but he thought about it occasionally, he wasn’t asexual, there were desires there underneath the surface. He might have been too busy for sex, jumping from one campaign to the next in search for meaning to his life, but he wasn’t ignorant. Balthazar’s many conquests were equaled by his open and boastful nature sex was a topic that Balthazar constantly spoke of. Cas wondered what it would feel like to come up behind Dean as he was bent over and slide into him using his hips as a support pulling him back into each thrust or what it would be like to have Dean crawl up on the bed with him, hike his legs up and drive home with his hands trapped above his head by the handcuffs.  

Cas was having trouble reigning in his thoughts the cool metallic feeling of the handcuff around his right wrist kept drawing his thoughts back along a wicked path. Balthazar was right; he was preoccupied with Dean. He had not been this sexually drawn to someone since Haziel, and if he was honest, his interest in Dean was higher.

Dean debated sleeping in his jeans to preserve some sense of normalcy between him and Cas but he was too tired to be uncomfortable, shucking his jeans, clad only in his boxers he turned off the light and climbed into bed. He took the remote off the nightstand and handed it to Cas.

“The TV won’t keep me up if you get bored.” He told him as he rolled to put his back to him. If Cas wanted to stab him in the back, he had plenty of chances before now.

Cas wasn’t sure what to do so he sat there in the dark and listened; he could tell when Dean fell asleep because his breathing settled. The attraction he felt for Dean was a distraction, he knew it but it was hard to ignore.

Cas knew he had a job to do; he needed to focus on finding whoever was trying to free Samhain.

Michael’s reign was already troubled by this recent peace with the demons if Lucifer was freed there would be a bloodbath. The thought of Dean getting caught in the crossfire troubled him. Dean rolled over in his sleep, and he was pressed against his side. Almost against his will Castiel ran his cuffed hand trough Dean’s hair, it was soft.

The last few days had been confusing to say the least, his heart still mourned for the loss of Pamela’s eyes and the pain she would suffer, but it felt like the last few days everything he knew about Dean changed. He had no new conceptual facts, but everything felt different.

           Everything that happened before, with Dean felt light years away, Castiel couldn’t fathom why he had been so cautious regarding Dean, why he had insisted treating him like a slave that he was in angel law rather than treating him as a partner. Dean had said as much when they first spoke about his plan, and Castiel at the time truly had not understood it.

The idea that it was vital for a man like Dean to retain his autonomy and come to a relationship as partners wasn’t on the forefront of his mind at the time. He had treated him as all angels treated humans, as lesser beings, yes he had wanted to offer him comfort but he hadn’t taken into account that physical comfort is not all humans’ need. The man was in mental anguish having lost his liberty and Castiel pressed it further by turning him into a nonperson. Now Castiel felt like he understood things better. He looked across the room at the jacket he had lain over the TV stand. Dean was his friend, whether Dean knew it yet or not it was the case.

Dean snuggled closer against him, and Castiel just closed his eyes, against the wave of lust that swept over him. Yes, they were friends but there was something else there. He was still rock hard it was obvious that in his tired state Dean had not noticed, a fact Cas was grateful for.

Castiel wondered what Dean would think of his attraction to him it was obvious that some of the attraction was returned and yet other than that very confusing morning after bring Dean back from hell a second time Dean had not acted on it. No, there was something in his eyes the night he was drunk but it was a hard read a strange swirl of anger resentment and lust. His virginity was also a bit of a roadblock.

He wasn’t sure how to initiate nor was sure how to start that conversation. That left his slightly confused, he no longer felt guilty for desiring Dean because Dean, and he were equals perhaps that wasn’t completely accurate in reality but in his mind it was how he felt. Feeling warm he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt letting it hang open.

Castiel was celibate he wasn’t chaste. He had stroked himself to completion more times than he could count the urge to do so now was making itself known. With his eyes closed it made it easier to picture Dean in his mind, the muscles in his chest and back were different from their first meeting, the regeneration had wiped away all his scars except his handprint. It was a strangely erotic thought the only mark on Dean was his. He could feel him next to him see him in his mind. He opened his eyes Dean was deep asleep dare he risk it?

His cock strained painfully against the forefront of his slacks. He ached for completion. With the heel of his hand, he experimentally pressed lazily against the tented front of his pants grinding against the weight. Just the barest minimum of pressure made him nearly moan out loud, Dean didn’t stir.

He reasoned that he would be able to stroke himself off quickly; Dean need never know that he was his inspiration or that he did so not even a foot away from him.

Carefully he undid the button of his slacks and drew down the zipper slowly. Angels did not have the same sensibilities as humans did when it came to modesty or confining clothing. Underwear was not needed. His cock sprang free from the confines of his slacks only to be instantly encircled by his hand. If this had been a normal situation, he would have slicked his hand with lube before but this needed to be taken care of quickly and quietly otherwise he would wake Dean.

He could smell Dean’s cologne feel the warmth of his body next to him. He imagined that it was Dean’s hand on his cock gently but firmly stroking up and down twisting slightly on the down thrust increasing the pressure against the head. He could see Dean in his mind; he knew the man would know ways to bring him to the height of ecstasy that these quick hurried strokes were only a pale imitation of what Dean would do to him, with his hands… with his mouth.

   With the thought of Dean’s mouth on his, he quickened his strokes almost rocking the bed with his quick, jerky movements. He was so close; he needed just a few more moments of friction. Dean moaned in his sleep the sound was likely a reaction to the rocking of the bed, but Cas took the moan as an answer. His release exploded sending ropes of cum across his stomach; too late did he realize that he was trapped on the bed with no way to clean off the evidence of his misdeed. Awkwardly pulled his shirt off one arm and used it to wipe away the evidence. He spent several moments trying to pull the shirt cuff through the handcuff so that he could toss the shirt in the floor, hopefully he would have time to either procure a new shirt in the morning or wash it.

Suddenly tired he zipped up the fly of his slacks and laid back and fell asleep.

***

Dean slept like the dead. He woke up a few hours later refreshed like he hadn’t been in days. He managed to sleep without dreaming of hell, and that was no small feat when times were he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing blood and darkness.

Cas was cuddled up against him, as much as his cuffed hand would allow, it was strangely comfortable. Dean was loath to leave, but nature called, and he knew that he wanted a shower after all that time trapped in the car. Dean got out of bed his muscles felt stiff from inactivity. It really had been a long time since he just drove. In Hell at least, his first tour in hell he spent most of his time pacing like a caged tiger do his best to stay active and not lose his edge. The last time he just did his best to stay alive, and mostly sane.

He fished in his pants pocket and pulled out the handcuff key. Dean leaned over the bed and with a quick twist of his wrist he unlocked the cuffs from Cas’s hand. The guy was asleep, if he woke up and tried to leave Dean would hear him, and he had no qualms about going out after him in his birthday suit. He left the door open so he could hear him.

Casually Dean walked into the bathroom; it was typical motel style small with just enough room for a shower, toilet, mirror and sink. The man who looked back at him in the mirror wasn’t the man he remembered. The man he saw now looked haggard and harder than the person he used to be. He looked older, but that was a given not it had been four years since he’d been free. Was he even the same man? He started the water. Honestly he couldn’t say if he was.

The warm spray of water melted away the brief stiffness of his muscles. He used the tiny shampoo bottle and washed his hair. Afterward, he just stood facing the faucet his face against the cool tile letting the water sluice over his back. Maybe if he stayed here long enough he could wash away the last four years. Maybe find out if after all that had happened if it was even possible for him to be the same guy.

Not that he had been exactly unburdened. That pretty much went out the window when his mom died, but there had been times when he felt fine going into town and grabbing a beer, relaxing with his friends, well maybe not his friends, but other hunters. He couldn’t exactly say he had a lot of friends. It had always kinda been him and Sammy against the world. In the early days, Sammy had even gone hunting with him before he quit and moved to Stanford. Course then there was Jo. He wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing her again.

There were a lot of things left unspoken between them. That was one relationship that he had managed to screw up that wasn’t entirely his own fault. His Dad hadn’t exactly been an asset. He still remembered the last time they spoke.

She had told him the truth about what happened between their dads. It was John’s fault her dad died. Dean hadn’t doubted it for a moment. John had always been consumed at finding the angel that killed their mother. Nothing else mattered. Jo had told him to get out of there, and he had and he never went back.

It wasn’t long after that he was captured and sent to Hell. The thought of facing her after all these years was daunting. The water was beginning to cool, and he turned it off and reached for a towel. He ran it quickly over him before wrapping it around his waist. He pulled back the curtain.

“Jesus Christ, Cas”

Dean recoiled from him surprised Cas continued to stare at him. He had not intended to startle him; he simply wanted to speak to him. He moved between Dean and the sink so he would not see that he was cleaning his shirt.

Dean stepped out of the shower; Cas remained where he was right smack in the middle of Dean’s personal space. Dean cleared his throat hoping that he would get the hint and back up.

After a few moments when he neither spoke nor moved Dean spoke up. “Cas, personal space.”

Cas frowned slightly before taking a few steps back where Dean could walk out the bathroom door.

Dean strode out the door into the room and tried not to look back. Feeling strangely exposed for having Cas behind him.

“We need to get moving.” Cas said.

Dean nodded “breakfast, a look around town and then later if we’re lucky a party.” strangely Cas spent the rest of the time before breakfast in the bathroom with a hairdryer on

He had stopped and bought their costumes on the way here. He couldn’t resist.

***

Breakfast was an uneventful affair. Dean had insisted on breakfast before looking around Cas probably would have been fine skipping a meal, but Dean had plenty of that in Hell, he went to the Café in town, unfortunately it didn’t have any pie, but he could survive that.

Cas picked at his food uninterested he had been weird all morning, after that creepy invasion of his shower time he had avoided meeting his eyes like the plague. Something had set the angel off his rocker, and he was having trouble figuring out what was wrong with him.

Dean flipped through the local paper looking for information, and he was pretty sure he found it. An armored car that carried the cash to the Nevada State Bank in Eureka had been stolen, the driver had incapacitated and the money dumped on the side of the road. If that wasn’t suspicious, nothing was. “After this why don’t we head over to the bank?” he suggested flopping the paper down in front of Cas so he could read it.

The angel nodded tersely; Dean couldn’t figure out what was with him today, it must be the pressure of the situation. Dean had assumed that Cas had been in the field a lot but maybe that wasn’t the case maybe he was nervous.

He studied Cas from across the table; he didn’t exactly seem nervous but he didn’t exactly look comfortable either.

Dean was looking at him again; Cas could feel his stare. He realized that his behavior might be drawing Dean’s attention, but he was very confused at the moment. There was no denying his attraction to Dean it was too late to lie to himself, but he knew that today was not time to think about it. He had a job to do and that job was very important Dean didn’t know yet but Uriel was on his way to Eureka and if the threat was not solved before then his orders were to remove the threat entirely.

Uriel would not tread lightly; if it came down to it, he would kill anyone that got in his way.

“Yes,” he replied agreeing with Dean the robbery of the truck was suspicious and their only lead.

“Alright you will need this.” Dean insisted sliding a piece of folded leather across the table. Cas frowned at in before opening it.

“Why would I need a license certifying that I am an official bikini inspector?”

Dean rolled his eyes at him apparently he had made some form of human faux pas.

“Because we’re not really FBI” he insisted as if it were the most obvious suggestion in the world.

“I see,” Cas murmured still confused.

Dean leaned forward to whisper to him his hands brushing his own. “Look we go around town flash the badge around ask some questions about the truck driver, and maybe we get a lead on who is trying to raise Samhain.”

Cas nodded and decided that it would be prudent to follow Dean’s lead on this since he had more experience interacting with other humans.

They split up after breakfast Dean figured he would be better without the angel anyway on the off chance he would be recognized the bank itself was a bust, but Dean found out from the cute receptionist that the driver of the truck walked into the local watering hole after the incident and apparently he’s been trying to live in a bottle ever since. The Owl Club Casino was right down the street, and Dean figured a man like that might already be there regardless that it was still before lunch.

The club was casual attire; a jukebox was playing somewhere in the background, and Dean could see Fox news on the TV. People were eating at some of the tables scattered around the restaurant area but the man they were looking for sat alone by the bar looking worse for the wear, he obviously hadn’t shaved in days and he was nursing a drink at 11:30

Dean figured that it would be better to try the friendly approach rather than run head forward with the fake FBI.

He signaled to the bartender who moved to serve him a drink. “Jack and Coke, and another one for my pal here,” The man turned to him blearily obviously inebriated.

“Thanks, friend?” His tone conveyed that he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to recognize Dean or not. Dean forged on ahead knowing this approach was a bit risky if the man didn’t feel comfortable talking he would clam up, but Dean didn’t have time for subtle.

“Bad news about the armored car,” Dean said sympathetically sliding the glass over. The man’s face pulled up in the grips of some strong emotion.

“Yeah,” was all he said but he accepted the drink, which was something.

“You mind me asking what happened?’ Dean asked casually taking a sip of his drink.

The driver minded; he minded a lot, visible discomfort showed on his face before finally his expression fell.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He whispered sullenly

Jackpot. “Try me,” he murmured wryly taking another sip

“They weren’t human.” He said very quietly. “Angels?” Dean asked the man shook his head. “Not angels, this man told me to get out of the car and I did.”

Dean frowned that didn’t sound normal, but it didn’t sound supernatural either.

“He had a gun on you anyone would do the same,” Dean said trying to smooth out the situation

The man downed his drink, before turning wide-eyed to Dean “That’s just it he didn’t have a gun he told me to do it and I had to get out of the car I didn’t have a choice.” The man’s hand shook as he spoke. Dean nodded for the man to continue, and it seemed like once the flood gates were open he couldn’t stop.

“Then he told me to help them take all the money out of the car. I did, it was like a compulsion,” the man’s horrified look only grew the more he spoke “Then the other man touched me and it felt like I was hit by a taser, it knocked me unconscious and left me this.” He pulled up his right sleeve showing Dean the lighting shaped raised red burn across his arm and shoulder.

Dean tried to hide his dismay. He knew angels could burn people, but he had never seen anything like this. This was weird. He downed his drink and paid his tab. Giving his excuse to the driver.

Dean paused when a something caught his eye.

He called Cas and explained the situation walking quickly down the street, back towards the motel. He had left the car in the motel parking lot. “I’m telling you Cas this is no angel, and it doesn’t sound like your demon buddies either.” He could practically feel Cas’s hesitation over the phone there was something he wasn’t telling him in a big way.

“You know what they are don’t you?” Cas sighed heavily. “Dosigs” he muttered.

“What does that mean?” Dean demanded Cas sighed heaving, but he sounded distracted “Dark ones, they are similar to earth legends of witches.”

He reached the motel and had a bad feeling when he noticed that the door was ajar.

He entered their motel room and immediately drew his gun, and moved forward in an offensive stance, ready to attack. He was not alone.

Cas was sitting on the bed staring at his hands another man was staring out the window.

Cautiously Dean lowered his weapon.

“Who’s your friend?” he asked guardedly

“Dean, have you located the witch?” Castiel asked him

Dean frowned “I talked to you like five seconds ago, so no,”

“That is unfortunate” the other angel murmured.

“Yeah, okay, chuckles,” Dean griped before continuing “but I’ve got a good idea, where there headed.” He insisted   holding up the flyer he pulled.

It was a plain flyer with just a picture of a barn and an address; Castiel frowned at the picture until Dean pointed at something in the picture’s background, the front of an armored car.

“The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals.” Castiel reminded him Dean glared at him what bug crawled up the angels butt? He was acting so strange.

He had just talked to him but now he was acting all stiff, like he was mentally preparing for a visit to the proctologist

He assumed that it had to do with the new angel in the room; Dean knew the guy was an angel

“Yeah, I remember this is about your buddy Lucifer” Dean groused wondering if it was the angel or if he said something to piss Cas off?

“Lucifer is no friend of ours.” The other angel said firmly his deep voice echoing in the room, his back still facing him

“It’s just an expression.” Dean shot off quickly ignoring the other angel and instead focusing on Cas

He stood looking at him intently.

“Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs.”

“Yeah, I already got your doom and gloom speech, but if we work together…”

“Enough of this” the angel shouted his tone bordering on loathing

Dean spun on the other angel “Okay, who are you and why should I care?”

Cas responded his tone deflated “This is Uriel, he’s what you might call a… specialist.”

There was something vaguely familiar about the angel Uriel walked towards him.

“What kind of specialist? Dean asked hesitantly something about this didn’t feel right. Cas and Uriel shared a meaningful look “What are you gonna do?” he had a bad feeling in his gut, about this angel there was something merciless about him.

Rather than answer him Cas deflected.

“You need to leave this town immediately” Cas ordered it was the same tone he used when he told Dean that he was coming home with him. It seemed like they took a small step backward

“Why?” he demanded

Cas refused to meet his eyes,

“Because we’re about to destroy it.”

***

Castiel was filled with shame; the look Dean was giving him was devoid of any warmth

Uriel had arrived moments before, and while he was not his superior on the battle field, he held the councils ear he convinced them immediate force was the only way of containing this situation. The archangels were keen to have this condition dealt with without the majority of the populace involved.

“So this is your plan, you’re gonna smite the whole friggin’ town?” He questioned aghast

“We’re out of time. These Dosigs have to die; the seal must be saved.”

“There are a thousand people here.” He maintained

“One thousand three hundred seventy-three in Eureka and the surrounding area,” Uriel informed him. Dean knew he was staring, hell he knew, should have known that angels didn’t give a damn about human lives but this was excessive; they couldn’t just disappear a town of the map? Could they?

“And you’re willing to kill them all?” Uriel looked at him his face and tone almost smug “This isn’t the first time I’ve… purified a city.”

“Look, I understand this is regrettable.” Castiel began and it was like arguing ethics with a wall.

“Regrettable?” he scoffed. “We have to hold the line. Too many seals have broken already.” Cas insisted, and this was more information than Dean had heard before, he hadn’t mentioned that other seals had already fallen, the angel was holding out on him.

“So you screw the pooch on some seals and this town has to pay the price?”

 

“It’s the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion. There’s a bigger picture here.”

 

“Right, cause you’re bigger picture kind of guys.” He ground out sarcastically He should have remembered that angels were always bigger picture people it didn’t matter that they were working together they always had their own agendas.

“Lucifer cannot rise… it would be hell on earth, Is that something that you’re willing to risk?”

We'll stop this, you and me Cas, Your seal won't be broken, and no one has to die.”

Uriel shot Cas a strange look “We're wasting time with these mud monkeys.” He growled scornfully Castiel turned away from Dean to face Uriel “I’m sorry, but we have our orders. We have no choice.”

“Of course you have a choice.” Dean nearly shouted, it always came back to the same thing with these winged dicks “I mean, come on, what? You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?” he accused.

 

“Look, even if you can’t understand it, have faith. The plan is just.”

 

“How can you even say that?” Dean demanded maybe he had judged the angel right the first time. If he thought killing, an entire town was just.

 

“Because it comes from heaven, that makes it just.” He replied and Dean knew where he stood. Cas would help him save his brother because he promised, but that was it he meant little more than a cockroach in the grand scheme of things as far as Cas was concerned.

“Oh, it must be nice, to be so sure of yourselves.” He sneered

The angel cocked his head in question “Tell me something, Dean, when your father gave you an order, didn’t you obey?”

 

Dean looked at Cas trying to fathom why he thought the angel was any different than all the others.

 

“Well, sorry boys, looks like the plans have changed.”

 

“You think you can stop us?” Uriel challenged the angel was not used to receiving threats he could tell by his affronted tone.

“Maybe. He dared he looked at Uriel

“I mean, come on, you're gonna wipe out a whole town for two dudes, Sounds to me like you're compensating for something” he taunted before turning back to Cas

“We can do this. We will find the Dosigs, and we will stop the summoning.

“Castiel! I will not let this hum…” Uriel began angrily

Castiel held up his hand at Uriel “Enough!”

Cas stared at Dean for a second as if trying to decide if he was insane or not he took the flyer from Dean. “I suggest we move quickly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I would really love some feedback to make sure you guys are liking the story


	13. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elements of Simon says and its the great pumpkin Sam Winchester

Dean was punishing Cas he acknowledged it, originally the costume was meant to be a joke he didn’t think that Cas would wear it, but now he was damned if the angel wasn’t going to be embarrassed in public, it was a little snub but it was the best he could do.

“This is very unfair.” Cas said again for the seventh time as he fastidiously straightened his fluffy white wings. Yeah, Dean went there. He struggled not to laugh as he watched Cas in his roman style white tunic corded sandals golden halo and fluffy white wings. The man was fucking adorable. This punishment was backfiring a bit. Naturally he chose a demon costume to compliment his angel. It wasn’t until after Cas changed into his costume that he showed that his consisted of his normal clothing with devil horns a tail and an appropriate amount of guyliner added for effect, it was Halloween he could get away with it. Needless to say, Castiel had not quite forgiven Dean as the entered the party.

They were in a barn or some random structure out in the middle of nowhere, but it turned out that nowhere was a relative term. From Cas’s information, it was within spitting distance from the old mine where they kept Samhain prisoner.

It was decided that they would look around the party for two men looking suspicious within moments of arriving Dean and Cas got separated as the crowd pushed them in opposite directions Dean figured it would be easier to just go with it and take a look around.

Dean knew it was a long shot, but he couldn’t let them explode the town. Or at least he assumed that would be the way they didn’t it he wasn’t really sure angels had some intense technology. The thought of Cas callously destroying an entire town didn’t sit well with him.

Dean had given the brief description of Simon-Says and the Human Taser; the worst supervillain names ever, to Cas. So far, it was just a matter of finding them or the car.

Dean assumed that they were using this party as a distraction as a way to cover their assault on Samhain he just wasn’t sure how yet.

The structure was packed to capacity; the cold desert night made the crush of bodies bearable the music was loud some heart pounding techno beat. Bright neon lights were attached to the ceiling swirling and flashing, the crowds of teens made Dean feel old, but he decided to compensate for that by drinking all their beer.

He poured himself a cup from the keg and kept his eyes peeled for the two guys or any movement towards the mine. Dean knew below the surface there was probably a swarm of angels ready to kill anything that advanced it, but he had a bad feeling that it wouldn’t be enough.

Dean glanced over to where he last saw Cas, but he wasn’t there. The crowd had pushed him further into the party. The angel had a strange bemused expression on his face. It made him wanna laugh.

Cas lit up like a Christmas tree underneath the black lights. He wasn’t the only one sporting an elaborate or sexy costume for that matter; Dean had seen his fair share of sexy policemen and firefighters at the party. Still the costume might have been a bit much, Dean knew that, but he had to admit he liked seeing the angel in it. The fluffy white wings obscured the tattoo wings that marked him as a seraph, the corded sandals went up his calves, and they did a good job of making his legs look good. Yeah, the punishment was absolutely backfiring and not just on him.

Castiel was very uncomfortable, Dean had insisted on the costume as a way to be inconspicuous, but he felt over-exposed, weaving in and out of the crowd of dancing humans was proving difficult the flow of the crowd kept inexorably pushing him towards its center. Still as of yet there was no sign of any hostilities. It made Castiel even more uncomfortable. If their plan did not succeed, there would be hell to pay. He needed to find Dean, they had been at this too long with no result, and they needed to regroup.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his arm; he turned to face a young human perhaps in his late teens early twenties. He was smiling at him in a way that made Castiel feel awkward.

“Did it hurt?” the boy asked. Annoyed by his continued presence when he needed to find Dean Castiel gave him an appropriately withering glare.

“Did what hurt?” Castiel asked dismissively still scanning the crowd.

“When you fell from Heaven?” he continued salaciously. Taken aback Castiel turned to him the boy was little more than a child; still Castiel could not have mistaken the intent of his tone nor the look on his face. The Boy was wearing a dark brown hat with a wide brim a brown fringed vest and blue denim pants.

Castiel was unfamiliar with the costume design but given the amount of exposed skin he assumed that he was what the humans referred to as exotic dancers although he was unsure what made them particularly exotic.

The interest the human showed him was not foreign to him, although he experienced it less from humans and more from his species since many humans had prejudices against his kind. While it was flattering, it was neither the time nor the place.

“Excuse me.” He insisted as politely as he could as he endeavored to move past him only to have his arm grabbed again.

“What’s your hurry angel?” the teen asked. He felt another presence at his back and he was beginning to find this situation unnerving.

Castiel had the strength to kill the boy with one finger on a normal day. Today however he found that he was having difficulty breaking his hold on his arm.

Dean grabbed another beer for the angel, yes this was a mission but they also needed to blend in, if the villain duo was in the crowd it would be a good idea for Cas to stand out as an angel. He should probably go over there and extricate him from throng of dancers.

 

 

Dean scowled it seemed a few of the teens rubbed some hormones together and thought they had the balls to hit on Cas. A crowd of them had gathered around him like a swarm of horny locusts. An underage cowboy seemed to be exceptionally persistent.

At first it was funny. Seeing a perplexed than annoyed Cas amid the horde until one of them got a bit grabby. Something surged through Dean, and he quickly began making his way across the dance floor. He was half way there when the music suddenly stopped; he ignored it at first until he heard a voice.

“I would like everyone’s attention.” Without will Dean and everyone in the barn turned towards the DJ booth. The voice itself was not overly impressive, but it felt like there was another layer to the voice just beneath the surface. It was a compulsion. The man was average looking with short dusty brown hair. It seemed like Simon made his appearance.

Castiel watched amazed as every person in the swung towards a man. Castiel recognized him and wished that he hadn’t, Ansen Weems. He was a long time apprentice of Azazel. This was a fact that would require further analysis at a later date. For now, he needed to act.

Dean couldn’t see Cas he couldn’t turn his head away from the man. “I need everyone to line up.” He ordered in the same echoy compulsive voice.

He smiled darkly “it’s hard to have human shields without all the people. “He chuckled slightly at his morbid joke. The man was holding his skull with one hand his fingers pressed to his forehead and his thumb rubbing at his temple as if fighting off a headache.

Dean wanted to reach into his pocket and pull out the earbuds he had brought for just this occasion. Honestly he hadn’t fully believed it until now, aliens were one thing but the supernatural was a whole other issue. Dean shuffled behind everyone as they slowly formed a line.

Abruptly he saw Cas rushing towards him. Before he could reach him another man with chin-length dark hair stepped out of the crowd and laid a hand on his back. There was a sickening electric sound before Cas fell to the ground with a groan in pain. Briefly he touched his head as if his actions pained him.

“The angels are on to us,” the second man muttered recovering, looking at Simon Says “We have to hurry.”

Dean took advantage of the confusion it seemed as soon as he did as he was told he could break away from the compulsion. He wasn’t sure what they were trying to do, but it seemed like they were taking human shields as hostages, and that wasn’t gonna happen on his watch.

He pulled his gun out of his jacket he sorta assumed that shooting the guy in the head would work just as well as anything. If he made it out of here, he was going to remember to ask Cas a lot more questions about these people and how the hell they had magic powers.

The moment he got the gun trained on him the man froze and looked straight at him. Dean felt his heart skip a beat. Without any verbal cues, the man stopped him from pulling back the hammer. He knew that it was him and not his volition because against his will his arm moved to pull the gun up to his head.

Briefly he looked away from Dean and back to the crowd “I want the rest of you to follow Scott to the mine and keep walking inside no matter what, and if you get scared I want you to say everything is ok, but keep walking.” Everyone nodded, and Dean felt the fear crawl into his throat.

The rest of the people began to follow Sparky out of the barn and walk towards the mineshaft.

“Cas!” Dean shouted Cas made an unintelligible sound “I could use a hand here!” He insisted with growing urgency. It seemed like somehow Cas was immune to Simon’s charm and if he didn’t get his feathery butt over here real soon and take the gun away Dean was gonna be say goodnight for good. He blew out several quick breaths panting in his effort to stop his hand from turning on him but with no luck. “Cas!” he shouted again in one last ditch effort.

“Stop!” Another voice commanded him. Dean froze the gun resting under his chin.

Another man very similar to the first with obviously the same powers stood in the barn door. His hair and eyes were a little darker, and he hadn’t shaved in a few days he wore a beat up light grey hoodie.

“Ansen!” He called out. Evil Simon glared at him. “I don’t have time for this Andy you’re not going to change my mind.” Dean could feel pressure on his mind telling him to pull the trigger that he needed to pull the trigger that he wanted to pull the trigger and yet at the same time he felt an opposite compulsion likely from second Simon, Andy.

“Ansen you don’t have to do this,” Andy murmured Ansen was sweating glancing nervous side to side.

“Yes I do, it’s all part of the plan.” “Screw the plan,” Andy asserted “We’re brothers you and me let’s just leave this and walk away, I left him, you can too.”

Somehow that wasn’t the right thing to say

“Yeah, you’re good at leaving,” Ansen tossed out with contempt “You left me with him, and he’s the only family I have now thanks to you.”

Dean pulled back the hammer cocking the gun. He could see the armored car out of the corner of his vision driving behind the line of human shields as they walked into the mineshaft he could hear screaming. The angels would no doubt be confused by the wall of walking human distractions that they wouldn’t be prepared for the full force of the armored car crashing into their gates. Likely neither of the villains cared about all the people that would die.

Ansen was so distracted with his brother that he didn’t see Cas until he was right upon him he tackled him to the ground. Dean was able to angle the gun slightly away from him as his finger pulled the trigger. The sound echoed in his ear ringing painfully he felt blood rush over his hand he had luckily just grazed his ear, but he had nearly blown his head off.

“Jesus,” he swore breathless, adrenaline coursing through his veins, he was sure that he had blown out his eardrum as the ringing continued.

“Go!” Cas ordered Dean was leery to leave the Angel alone with possibly two combatants, but the screaming grew louder, and he knew he had other people to save. He sprinted off towards the mine.

Castiel sized up his opponent the man was smaller than himself in height, but Castiel was of slighter build. He raised his fists in a defensive stance.

“Stop!” The man insisted throwing his hand out; his words flowed off him like water. His borrowed power had no effect on him. He was unaccustomed to unarmed combat, but as a solider he possessed the necessary skills.

He swung a fist towards the man the impact sent his head rocketing backward and the impact of his jaw sent pain radiating through his knuckles.

He spun prepared to fight the other man, but he was nowhere in sight.

Cas took a step forward his vision swam, his arm ached from where the man touched him. Raised red burns that looked almost like lighting covered his arm at the point of contact.

He moved towards the mine fighting for consciousness.

The wind whistled past him as he ran into the mine. The armored car had already destroyed the heavy metal gates of the facility. People were strewn about many of them alive but injured.

The wooden doors and police tape that secured the opening of the mine shaft had been pulled away by the humans. Further, down the corridor the metal doors were bent open the car idled coughing loudly the front bumper a twisted mess. A loud wailing alarm sounded from overhead accompanied with flashing red lights  

He saw many seraphs unconscious seraphs suffering similar burns as his own. Castiel felt his head swim as he struggled against unconsciousness. Dean was no-where to be seen, and his heart lurched he only hoped that he was alive.

Dean was only a few feet behind Sparky as he opened the door. Considering all the fuss that was made Samhain didn’t look very special he was a middle-aged looking man tall, but not overly with longish brown hair and pale eyes he had a layered look with a brown jacket over a whitish button up with a brown t-shirt as the bottom layer. He looked more like a hippy art teacher than evil demon lord.

The room itself also didn’t look like a prison more like a freaky laboratory where the rat they studied was Samhain. The entire room was a clean metallic white there was a cage-like door where Samhain was kept prisoner, but the rest of the room housed desks and computers, file cabinets littered all the walls. Large monitoring screens displayed the room and what was happening in it.

          Samhain had his hand resting idly against Sparky’s shoulder. It was almost as if they were having an intimate conversation alone not in the middle of a high-class facility with alarms going off all over the place. Dean raised his gun ready to empty his clip into the demon’s head. When suddenly the man snapped Sparky’s neck like it was nothing before turning to face him Sparky’s body still held up by his neck. Dean shot off five shots in rapid succession. Samhain didn’t flinch as he positioned Sparky to take the bullets before dropping the riddled body.

Ok, Dean would give him that; it wasn’t something he saw every day. Still he wasn’t out of options. Dean pulled a knife out from the sheath at the small of his back and attacked.

Dean wasn’t surprised by the strength that Samhain showed Angels were stronger he assumed a similar species would be of similar strength was he was surprised by was the complete lack of effect the knife had.

It was like stabbing a dead guy yeah the knife it sunk in and a little bit of blood welled to the surface the blood that came out was a dark red much darker than human blood, but other than that the guy didn’t flinch. That left the less pleasant option. Dean punched him in the face it felt like punching a soft brick wall. The pain in his hand didn’t lessen, but he took a second swing. Samhain returned him blow for blow.

He was already struggling with his equilibrium because of his ear the blows to his face didn’t help with his vertigo. He started missing more shots than he landed, and it seemed like the Demon could keep this up indefinitely. Blood oozed down the front of his shirts, but it didn’t seem to faze the demon in the slightest.

Samhain wrapped his hand around Dean’s throat holding him above the ground he couldn’t breathe. He shoved Dean against the wall making his head bounce around like a toy using it as leverage for choking him. Dean’s vision was growing blurry, but he could just barely see someone entering the room behind Samhain. Samhain’s head whipped around to face the intruder. Whoever it was they seemed hostile towards Samhain and as far as Dean was concerned that was all that mattered.

The man was tall he towered over Samhain, but Dean’s vision wouldn’t stop swirling long enough to make out any feathers other than almost shoulder length brown hair. He extended his hand, and Samhain made a pained sound almost as if he was the one choking.

As he was losing conscious Dean marveled at the other man’s bizarre Darth Vader force choke. Samhain dropped him allowing him to get much-needed oxygen, but it didn’t seem to help him hold on to his senses. Samhain continued forward like he was fighting against gale force winds he continued choking until he fell to his knees, the man was holding his head in the same manner Simon says had as if fighting off the worst headache of his life.

Finally, Samhain gasped out his last breath and collapsed next to Dean; the other man kneeled near him, and he laid a finger against his pulse. Dean knew the blow to the head and oxygen deprivation was making him see things, but he couldn’t stop the words that rushed to his lips.

“Sammy?” he gasped out in question the man didn’t reply Dean swiftly lost conscious.

 

Castiel stumbled into the room that housed Samhain’s prison. His heart skipped seven beats as he noticed Dean lying on the floor presumably dead. A million thoughts filtered through his head. He never told the man how much he admired him, or how much he learned about humanity from him in just these few short weeks. He never admitted his attraction to him; he allowed his position and his entire species to come between them. Once Dean was no longer his slave he should have admitted his desires before it was too late.

It seemed Dean gave his life for his Castiel’s cause. His knife lay by his side Samhain’s blood pooling from his slit throat next to Dean.

Great remorse gripped him as he knelt next to his friend. Suddenly he gasped and sat bolt upright, and it felt like his heart could beat again.

“What happened?” Dean demanded looking swiftly around the room; Castiel noticed a trickle of blood coming from his left ear. He had come that close to watching Dean die.

“You killed him,” Castiel assured trying to calm him. He was coughing and looking around to room as if he was waiting for someone to attack from nowhere. It might have been a close fight but in the end Dean triumphed. Dean’s Costume had fallen to pieces; Castiel looked down at himself, his wasn’t in great shape either. He removed the wings and halo the tunic was close enough to angelic robes he would still garner enough respect.

Dean frowned confused still glancing around the room. “I killed him,” he started again almost as if it was still a question.

“It’s over.” Dean felt like he had been run over by a steamroller as Cas helped hoist him up by his arms.

“I don’t remember killing him,” he admitted. Cas looked at him quizzically. “It was a close fight.” He said dismissively. “Yeah,” Dean agreed getting his feet under him where he could stand. “After a night like that I could use a good drink, a good meal, a good lay and sleep.”

Cas looked at him strangely “Two out of four isn’t bad.” Dean said with a smile thinking of the liquor he had stashed in his bag back at the hotel and the nice bed. He felt like he could sleep for a year.

As they were walking out of the facility, several armed bedraggled looking seraphs approached them pointing their guns directly at him. Several of them sported burns like the one's Sparky dished out. Somehow the guy had taken out the entire facility all by himself? It did make sense many of the others didn’t have the burns but they sported bruised faces or maybe a cracked rib judging by how some of them moved. Was Dean crazy or had there been another one of these special children here and if so were they the ones who took Samhain out? If they weren’t here to free, him were they here to kill him?

“Well guys better late than never.” He agreed

“Stand down,” Castiel ordered and oddly the men obeyed. Dean never thought about it before, but it seemed like Cas had more pull than the originally thought.

They spread out seemingly trying to clean up the mess it looked somebody tore this place a new asshole. There were papers littered everywhere thrown off the desks file cabinets rifled through all the computers where giving up like puffs of smoke and sparks. It was a mess, and Dean didn’t remember it being like that when he passed out.

He looked at Cas, was he the one who rifled through everything or was it the weird Sam-like doppelganger?

“Dean, why don’t you head to the motel and I’ll meet you then when we’ve finished with everything,” Cas suggested and Dean didn’t argue. He wanted to go home take a shower get off the dirt and blood, drink a few glasses of bourbon and fall asleep. He wasn’t worried about Cas leaving anymore.

Cas had saved his ass today, by tackling Simon Says. He would come back to the motel after he finished here. They did good today. Yeah, Cas had his agenda that didn’t mean that they couldn’t work together while their paths crossed, Dean missed having someone to watch his back.

A strange prickling sensation of being watched followed him as he exited the mine shaft and headed back to the barn. It seemed like many of the human party goers were ok. Relatively speaking they were babbling, emotionally scarred maybe, but most of them were alive. At the barn, there was no sign of either Simon says.

The media had arrived swarming the barn and trying to force their way to the mine. It made little to no sense for them to be here. Eureka was in the middle of nowhere. It would take hours for any media outlet to get here, unless they were tipped off.

Dean was beginning to wonder who won here tonight; Samhain hadn’t escaped but maybe this attempt was enough to break the seal.

***

Castiel watched the recording again, it clearly showed another man entering the research facility moments before all the camera feeds failed, simultaneously. The footage was grainy and difficult to see, but it was of a tall man with dark hair. Dean obviously had not killed Samhain on his own.

He had a bad feeling about this. It was true that he did not know where Sam Winchester was now, but that is not to say he didn’t know where he had been. The Demon Ruby had seemed very certain of his location only seven months ago. She had said that Sam was an apprentice of Azazel. Ruby claimed that Sam drank her blood to gain a demon’s psychic abilities and that he had grown so addicted to demon blood that he could not stop himself. Castiel had wanted to shield Dean from the awful truth about his brother until anything could be proven, but perhaps this was not the right way.

Tiredly he took the recording; there was nothing more he could do here. The media circus had descended on the facility.

Human and angel’s alike wanted to know about the assault on a secret underground base and what it true purpose was.

The seal had fallen, even though Samhain hadn’t escaped his attempt seeded mistrust among his people.

He opened the motel door; the lights were off, and Dean was asleep on the bed. He hadn’t even shed his clothes or crawled beneath the coverings.

Castiel took the remainder of his drink off the bedside table and went into the bathroom; he had intended on dumping its contents into the sink but froze when he saw himself in the mirror.

He was covered in minor scrapes and abrasions the bruise that sat atop his forehead just below his hairline from when Dean hit him with the butt of his gun had only just begun to fade the burn that covered his arm showed no signs of healing and the knuckles of his right hand were tender and bruised.

He wasn’t healing. The idea had occurred to him that it might happen if he skipped his regeneration cycles, but at the time it was a small price to pay to save Dean from the suffering he caused him.

Maybe he was still healing faster than the average human, but nowhere near his full potential. The thought disturbed him. Physical frailty was not something his species had much experience with. They had long ago conquered the limitations of their bodies. The rigors of space travel alone necessitated a way to regenerate the body against the negatives of space flight such as the effects of weightlessness had on the body.

Being so vulnerable was foreign to him, curious Castiel downed the remainder of the liquid in Dean’s glass the burn was not favorable in his opinion he wasn’t sure why Dean and Balthazar absorbed the stuff like air.

The warmth it left in his stomach did seem like a fair exchange however. He was bone tired, the clock read half past two and he knew that they would be on the road early to make it back to California. Michael had already started the games, and it would only be a matter of time before Uriel entered. His mind flashed back to Uriel he was not pleased by his decision to trust Dean. Castiel knew he would need to tread carefully in the coming days, but he found himself tired of blindly obeying orders.

He hesitated when he reached the bed thinking it was only last night that he had so brazenly released himself next to Dean, but he was tired, and all he wanted was sleep.

***

Dean woke to the feel of someone climbing in bed next to him. He was cold, so he shifted with them until he was under the blankets. Only moments before he had been contentedly asleep but now the room seemed filled with a strange tension

“Let me hear it.” Dean muttered grudgingly

“Hear what?” Cas responded. There was something strangely personal talking this way in the dark in the same bed.

“The ‘I told you so,'” Dean insisted “Stopping Samhain didn’t stop the seal from breaking did it?”

“No.” Cas confirmed wearily. Dean didn’t turn to look at Cas it would have been too intimate he simply stared at the ceiling, the taste of failure making him sick.

“I am not here to judge you, Dean.” Cas whispered quietly he was also lying on his back it made the whispered words hard to hear because of his injured ear.

The words held more implications than just this one mission. It bordered on someone’s answer to what was the meaning of life, why are we here?

“Then why are you here?” Dean wondered. He had lots of questions why was Cas helping him, what was his overall agenda? Why did they even come to Earth? No one knew any of these answers angel’s never shared information about themselves on the chance that it would be used against them.

“Our orders …” Cas began more out of habit that anything else, but it still frustrated Dean why couldn’t he just be honest with him for once.

“Yeah, you know, I’ve had about enough of these orders of yours…”

He could feel Cas roll over trying to face him but he kept his eyes trained at the ceiling he would count every tile before he turned and let Cas see what was going through his mind he felt oddly exposed.

“You misunderstand me, Dean, I’m not as you think.” Cas insisted his voice held so many emotions he was nearly begging Dean to believe him. “I was praying that you would choose to save the town.” He finished.

“You were?” Dean asked surprised. He could have fooled him. Was that why he was so deflated when he spoke to him with Uriel he was given order that he didn’t want to obey.

           “These people, they’re works of art, and yet, even though you stopped Samhain, the seal was broken and we are one step closer to hell on earth, for all creation. Now that’s not an expression, Dean, its literal. You of all people should appreciate what that means.”

Dean dared to glance at him knowing his face mostly likelily betrayed all the pain and sadness hell had given him. Lucifer would turn all of earth into that prison. He would do whatever he could to prevent that. Cas was looking at him his expression stricken with doubt.

           “Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?”

“Okay. The word was simple, but the truth behind it wasn’t Dean knew he would keep this secret he would take it to the grave if he had to because Cas asked it of him.

“I’m not … “He began hesitantly “…a hammer as you say. I have questions; I have doubts.” Dean knew what the revelation meant to Cas. “I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, But in the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don’t.”

Dean wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by that but when he went to ask he realized that Cas had fallen asleep. Dean couldn’t help but smile. He had a point in the coming months he had to save his brother and see if he really could maintain a friendship with the enemy because like it or not that was what he and Cas had become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sorta flipped Ansen and Andy's relationship making Andy want to save his brother. Comment please I love reading your comments and suggestions.


	14. 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, had lots of computer problems and personal problems. Please comment

Four and a half weeks later

            Over a month of nothing. Every tip they had about Sammy led to a dead-end, Dean wasn’t handling it well. The inactivity was beginning to drive him up the wall in a way no amount of pie Cas brought home would cure. He was angry. There was a fire that was eating him up from the inside. While he had an easy comradery between him and Cas at least when, they were alone. Part of him wished differently if nothing else so that Dean could do something. They didn’t go out often, but when Cas went anywhere he took Dean with him.

            After the original assault on his compound that Dean narrowly missed he wasn’t taking any chances, and that meant wearing the collar and leash. Dean hated it. With a fiery passion so hot he wasn’t sure why the strip of black leather never burst into flames. It chafed at every part of his being, the constraint, the giving over of his own will to Cas for safe keeping. Although he trusted the angel more, he didn’t think he was going to hurt him or run him into sign posts, it made him feel weak. He hadn’t seen Bobby since St. Louis but it didn’t help that he knew Bobby and likely Ellen and Jo watched him get walked like a dog. He was never a submissive, never had been, doubtful he ever would be there was too much in his life already out of his control he wasn’t want to add more to the list. Ellen had brightened his day briefly by bringing him the Impala and working with her was the only think keeping him even a little sane.

            Sure Cas was a lot nicer about it than any of his trainers as a Bilora he only used the collar when they went in public, where his society would question its absence. He was also quick to remove it when they arrived back as his villa, but he was restless. Every day he saw more people die in the arena, they treated it like a sport, filming every aspect of the games critiquing the fighters, marveling at the detailed settings and reveling in each bloody moment. Still no sign of chuckles or Sammy, to think that that heartless bastard owned his brother made him sick. He had long ago dismissed his hallucination on Halloween as just that so that he could focus on finding the gladiatorial training facility.That had to be where Sammy was being held until Uriel decided to enter him into the games.

            Part of him wanted just to convince Cas to send him to the arena. Over the last couple of weeks, he had gotten himself back into fighting form, and he was itching for a fight. His ear had finally healed, and he wouldn’t allow himself to get that sloppy again. His whole life had been one long campaign, and he never had long between battles. Waiting had never been his strong suit, and now it was driving him crazy. He was drinking more than he should to compensate Cas never said anything about it, but Dean knew he watched him with worry. It was the only way he slept at night. He was still constantly plagued with dreams of hell and Alastair and as far as he figured whatever Cas did to heal him of all his scars probably bought him a new liver.

            It was late maybe four in the morning. He was in the little garage Cas had set up for the Impala. Cas was true to his word, he allowed Dean to roam the house as a partner rather than a slave. As long as he stayed on the grounds, Dean knew it was meant to be for protection but the limitation niggled at him. He ran a soft cloth over the Impala he wore a dark blue grey sleeveless shirt and a dingy pair a blue jeans she was sleek and in perfect order again.

Ellen hadn’t said much about how she got the car. If anything she was downright evasive and maybe a little angry. She had handed him the keys without looking him in the eyes, just said that Sam had left the car at the roadhouse a few years back. He had wanted to ask about Jo wanted to know how she was doing, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask and she hadn’t volunteered any information.

            The silence killed him. When it was quiet, he thought. Thought about Sammy, thought about his dad, about the man in hell. The Impala was spotless, he hadn’t had much to do, but now she shone. He took a swig out of the flask Bobby lent him. The burn added a layer of warmth to his already numbed brain now if only he could find a way to fill the hollow in his heart. He needed to do something. There was this constant tightness in his chest when he thought about Sammy out there on his own in danger because of him. Everyone he loved died. Everything he touched turned to shit. His whole life was a series of people he fucked over. He was beginning to think the good he did would never outweigh the bad.

            He glanced down at the only thing he had ever managed to fix.Without thinking he grabbed a pipe from the workbench and slammed it into the back of the trunk. The sound echoed loudly in the small space. The dent wasn’t enough to satisfy this impotent rage. He found himself smashing the pipe against the car again and again the rage that swirled inside him filled his every move.With a shriek of grinding metal and sharp ping of breaking glass he decimated the car breaking the windshield, the tail lights anything he could reach. Until suddenly the rage that filled him moments before blew over leaving emptiness in its wake. He threw the pipe away and heard it clatter to the ground somewhere.

            His jaw ached from how hard he clenched his teeth and the pain in his heart hadn’t dissipated the god damn hopelessness was still there trapping him. He wanted to scream to destroy everything so that he could feel in control over something. His hand and arm were bleeding he felt the stinging pain of glass embedded in his arm. He almost relished it because at least pain was something he could deal with, pain meant he was alive meant he was still here. He needed to get out of here he didn’t care what it cost him just for a few hours. Dean didn’t think he pulled open the garage door and headed off on foot. If nothing else maybe it would help cool him down.

***

            Castiel couldn’t sleep. He paced the length of his room. Regardless of the late hour he was still dressed, he had a decision to make. The month had passed by in a whirlwind. Time had moved so fast there was little he could do to stem the tide. He had spent that time diligently attending meetings in the hope of hearing news of Sam and the games. He was weary. The weariness had settled into his bones. His first regeneration, since Dean left Hell, was scheduled in two days, and it could not come soon enough. The long hours weighed on his physical body and mental peace, and yet he knew that his troubled nights were no worse than Deans. He knew Dean was in the garage, it seemed the only place he found any peace. He felt like a failure, and Castiel felt like one as well.

            He knew locating Sam Winchester would not be an easy task, but he had not thought it impossible. No one seemed to know anything about him, Uriel was no help. He would say no more about his arena warrior and with the breaking of seals he was constantly away. To make matters worse he had not heard from Balthazar since before he left to find Dean. It was begging to trouble him. While Balthazar was prone to fits of extended debauchery, he always contacted him Gabe, and he had done neither as far as Castiel could tell.

            Not that Gabe was in any position to notice, he had fallen into the same spiral as Balthazar.When Castiel visited him at his villa the man was enjoying a state of maniacal decadence, he abdicated from his position on the council and he would give Castiel no explanation. He merely said that he had a fight with his brother after his abdication and had not seen him since. His removal left only Michael and Raphael as the two archangels. Castiel had tried to garner an audience with the council, but they refused. He knew it was time that he stopped implicitly trusting the words of an encoded communication that may or may not come from their absent leader. He had wanted the council to examine the transmission in an attempt to locate its source.

            Their refusal to meet with him left him to try to explore less pleasant means of gathering information. It left him two different options. One was trusting humans other than Dean. He mentioned a human named Ash, who was capable of many things with a computer that might be able to help with locating the transmission source.

            While Castiel had no ill will towards humans trusting them was another matter entirely. It was the habit of his species to reveal as little information as possible about them. Information was power and the more power another species had, the less the angels would have. While Castiel knew Dean, and he were aligned for the moment, he was a member of the angel resistance. Castiel felt sympathy for humans, but his people needed them in bondage. Th angels were limited in numbers it wasn’t a well-publicized fact, but there had no new births of angels in nearly a thousand years. The data wasn’t as troubling as it could be given their expanded life cycles their scientists deemed the limitation a necessary adaptation to longer regeneration periods and longer lives. Still the fact troubled some in the community. Releasing information even trivial information to humans was frowned upon and releasing information to the resistance was tantamount to treason.

            The second option was perhaps more distasteful. The demon Ruby had contacted him again. She said she had information on someone that would be useful to the cause of finding Sam Winchester. She would not go into any more detail by correspondence, but she agreed to a meeting face to face. Castiel was leery meeting a demon even during relatively peaceful times alone was dangerous. Additionally he knew that she could not be fully trusted. It was in her nature to betray. Their entire culture revolved around the struggle for dominance, but what choice did he have? He had agreed to the meeting, tonight, they had selected an abandoned building not far from Castiel’s villa.

            He has scouted the location earlier today there were no obvious signs of foul play, although he was sure she had done her own recognizance. His current dilemma was whether or not to bring Dean. The danger leaving him alone was very real. He still had no further information about why the strike team came for him, but he knew that they would not stop after a single try. Pamela was still in the hospital recovering from the burns that the other angel inflicted on her. It made his heart ache, but he knew that in a deep down part of his being that he tried to deny he was glad it was her rather than Dean. He knew it made him a horrible person, a lowly base individual, but the thought was there every time he looked into Dean’s fathomless green eyes. The danger was just as great if he brought him with him Ruby was an unknown variable. She could not be trusted that much he was already assured of but did the risk of leaving Dean alone outweigh the risk of bringing him to her.

            Another issue of bringing Dean to Ruby was the truth that he had been keeping from him. Ruby knew much more than she was telling him about Sam Winchester and his twisted relationship with Azazel. She feigned ignorance of Azazel’s true goal or of the current location of Sam but the little bit that she had told him he had kept from Dean. The legends of Dosigs were just that legends until recently. They were called dark ones because they were beings augmented by drinking demon’s blood. It was an ancient practice that he thought had been abandoned long before he was born. While their science had very little understanding of the psychic abilities, the Babalon presented they fully grasped the physical prowess. Naturally the Babalon would only have been as strong as humans, but a series of unfortunate events led to their extremely powerful nature.

            While his species was advanced compared to humans, the Babalon were much more advanced their studies in immunotechnology was in part what kept both species alive.   The intense ionizing radiation from the cosmic rays that entered through their planets depleted atmosphere caused a breakup of the molecule's double-stranded, ladder-like helix. While the body can repair a few breaks without significant loss of function when many breaks occur, the repairs can become messy, and new instructions can be keyed in the genetic code. They developed a slew of chromosome instability syndromes, inherited conditions associated with chromosomal instability and breakage this lead to an increased tendency to develop certain types of malignancies such as cancer and congenital diseases the biggest problem being the Nehcoma, a neurodegenerative, inherited disease causing severe disability. It impaired certain areas of the brain including the cerebellum, causing difficulty with movement and coordination. It weakened the immune system causing a predisposition to infection and slowed the natural repair of broken DNA, increasing the risk of cancer.

            The Babalon attempted Autologous immune enhancement therapy using blood transfusions the process worked by using their own immune cells removing them from the body culturing and processing them to activate their resistance to diseases then the strengthened cells were put back in the body but the damage to their original DNA sequence slowed the cell's natural repair mechanisms leaving them suffering constant radiation sickness. They attempted directed evolution, random mutagenesis was applied to proteins, and a selection regime was used to pick out variants desired qualities. This method mimicked natural evolution and in general, produces superior results to a rational design. Transplantation and Organ piracy served as a short term solution on a larger scale. Donor organs were chemically scrubbed of cells leaving a protein scaffold behind and then recipient stem cells were used to re-engineer living organs.

 

            The plan worked if very slowly however the engineered prion proteins spontaneously contorted themselves into the disease-causing conformation based on a rare mutant prion allele harmful prion proteins can replicate by converting normal prions into rogue forms this created an autosomal dominant inherited prion disease of the brain. It was almost always caused by a mutation in the protein, but also developed spontaneously in patients with a non-inherited mutation variant called it had no known cure and involved progressively worsening headaches, insomnia, which lead to hallucinations, delirium, and confusional states like dementia. The average survival span for patients diagnosed after the onset of symptoms was 18 months.

 

            With the situation growing steadily worse trying to find a lasting solution, they created a virus. Viruses bind to their hosts and introduce their genetic material into the host cell as part of their replication cycle. They began gene therapy, by removing the viral DNA and using the virus as a vehicle to deliver the therapeutic DNA they developed a virus characterized by a long incubation period. That delivered a significant amount of viral RNA into the DNA of the host cell and had the unique ability of being able to infect non-dividing cells they used the virus to introduce a new genes to the cells infecting the decayed cells with its own original genetic material.

They developed tools for selectively activating and deactivating individual genes like flipping a light switch genome-editing tools that allowed them to epigenetically seek out and turn on genes that made their muscles physically large, increased their stamina and immune response and made their reaction times incredibly fast and helped to unlock the ability to manipulate zero-point energy fields this allowed them unheard of access to psychic powers. This worked while it did not destroy the mutant prion the virus was able to revitalize the cells at the same rate of destruction creating unaffected carriers of both the prion disease and the genome- editing virus.

            This is what gave the Dosigs their strength and weakness. They would feel like gods they would have access to the same physical and psychic strength of the Babalon for 18 months. Then the same disease that crippled the Babalon would overcome their weaker human immune system forcing them to physically crave the power. While at the same time slowly replace their human cells if they managed to survive the transition process they would eventually become demons themselves. Castiel only knew of one to survive the transition process. Ruby.

 

            This had happened before in other species, the demon’s fed them their blood and they gained phenomenal power and they were used as pawns in the war. Until they died.

            Castiel feared that Sam Winchester was one of those pawns if what Ruby said was true they were running out of time to find him in more ways than one. If a cure were possible in humans, they would need time, sadly Castiel knew this may not be the best situation to trust Dean to remain calm in.

            As much as he worried about his safety he knew that he had to go to see Ruby alone.

***

            Dean tucked his arms tight against his chest. Maybe leaving like this wasn’t the best idea it wasn’t cold but the air carried a chill. He didn’t even look which was he was going as he stalked away from the garage. He didn’t stop his anger and helplessness kept spurring him forward. He didn’t care that the hand print was showing him marking him as Cas’s property. Ok, maybe he did care, maybe a bit too much, he was his own man and for the past month he was stuck here waiting around twiddling his thumbs while Sammy was out there alone.

            Not to mention the fact that the resistance didn’t want him. None of them went so far as to say that, but he knew it was true. His capture and his ruse as Cas’s slave made him a liability Part of the reason only Ellen had come to see him and only under the cover of darkness. Yeah, he knew it was the smart move, he was too public, but it stung.

            Dean had never had a life outside the resistance. He had always been a hunter. He wasn’t like Sammy; he hadn’t done well in school. He never had a relationship last longer than it took to get from the bed to the doorway. He had never had any other plans never had his own goal and for the most part he was fine with it. There was bigger goal he was fine sitting on the backburner, but everyone else had moved on without him, they didn’t need him as much as he needed them and while that made him feel weak. He knew it was better that way. Hell if the Angels packed up and left today he had nothing else to do with his life. He had almost reached the road, the thick lump of emotions swirling in his chest.

            “Dean,” a voice called out.

            He jumped simultaneously pissed that he hadn’t heard the person creep up on him and impressed, it usually took a lot to get the jump on him. He spun to see who it was, but he should have known by her voice.

“Jo?” he asked surprised.       

            Jo was still the same slim 5'4" with brown eyes and long wavy blonde hair, that seemed to have darkened slightly from the last time he had seen her. She wore faded blue jeans a black tank top with a thick tan jacket, but at the same time she was different. She stood stiffly surveying her surroundings obsessively, scanning for an enemy.

            “Why did you leave the compound?” she asked her eyes quickly still scanning their surroundings.

She held a sawed-off pump action shotgun in her hand and had a small tan bag over one shoulder She must have been the one on babysitting duty.

His arm was stinging from the glass. Dean didn’t have any answers, so he deflected.

“What, are you following me?” He demanded jumping easily into the same defensive stance he had when they last spoke.

“Yes?” she answered simply giving him no leeway.

Unsure he waited not sure how to continue. “I needed the air.” He finally said.     

She narrowed her eyes. “You needed air?” she condescended lowering her weapon.

“Figures” she muttered to herself.

Dean hadn’t expected to see her. Especially not like this. She was different. Jo had always been an enthusiastic hunter, but this was something different the innocence she had was long gone.

            “We need to go.” She insisted turning back towards the house.

            Dean wanted to ignore her, but something in his gut told him that now wasn’t the time. Grudgingly he followed her. He had so many questions, for her, about her. He wanted to know why she was following him, but honestly he didn’t need that question answered. She was keeping an eye on him. Dean wasn’t sure why it bothered him, under the circumstances it was prudent but he didn’t want anyone to see him as a slave least of all Jo. He knew anything that was between them was long gone, but it didn’t help being around her. It just made everything more confusing.

He felt weak following her like some lost little puppy dog that ran out when his master was away, and it made him bitter.

            “Couldn’t score a better job than babysitting?” he taunted. She didn’t take the bait. “I volunteered.” She offered not looking back her sawed-off shotgun lying over her shoulder.

            He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from asking his next question with the expression he knew he would have. His disbelief would just make her pity him even more. They were almost back at the garage he hadn’t walked very far in his angry march away from the compound they entered the garage.

“Why?” he finally asked schooling his features. He knew he hadn’t quite hidden the disbelief from his tone.

“Down boy,” she condescended still not facing him her flippant tone belying her stiff avoidant stance.

“It has nothing to do with you and me” she continued sincerely

“I owe your brother.” Dean frowned “Why?” She turned to face him slowly.

“Because until about a month ago I thought I killed him.” she answered frankly it was then that he saw her face.

            The left side of her face sported a jagged slash across her forehead bisecting her eyebrow narrowly missing her eye only to pick up again as a Y shaped tear across her cheek and lip with an opposing cut across her jaw. He recognized the precision as a knife blade rather than claw marks. She flinched under his gaze.

“It’s a new look huh?” she spat out bitterly.

            Dean didn’t know what to say the cut on her cheek was the deepest he knew from experience that the blade wasn’t a small one and slashes that large were made slowly. The scars were sunken in their effort to heal; these scars were not new.

“What happened?” he asked her eyes darted away from his refusing to meet his concerned stare.

            His eyes felt compelled to travel along the new roadmap of scars across her face learning each new inch of jagged flesh. She was still beautiful, but she was broken, like she was a porcelain doll that someone dropped the scars were cracks in her old life.

She shrugged indifferently. He approached her quickly trying to comfort her reaching up to cup her face, and she flinched away as if he would burn her.

            “Don’t touch me!” she insisted spinning away.

Dean dropped his concern replaced with frustration. “What happened Jo?” he asked sternly.

She turned away from him. He let her.

“It was a couple months after Philadelphia.” she began slowly. Her voice took on a distant tone as she remembered the events. “After mom told me how my dad died…” She let the sentence trail off, not wanting to rehash yet another painful subject. “I went out on my own.”

“Hunting?” Dean asked he knew his tone was incredulous, and she shot him a dirty look over her shoulder.

            “Yeah, hunting.” Her voice brooked no more interruptions “I was working in a bar in Duluth when Sam…” “Sam?” Dean exclaimed she spun around hands on her hips in frustration.

            “Do you want me to tell you or not?” she demanded Dean was too much of a gentleman to point out the tears in her eyes she was refusing to shed, so he only nodded.

            “He came in acting cagy; that should have been my first clue.” She added the last comment seemingly to herself with a distant look on her face. “We talked for a little, he started coming on really strong and I told him to leave. He had this weird mark on his arm. He attacked me and knocked me unconscious.”

            Every fiber of his being wanted to deny what Jo was saying wanted to scream and call her a liar. Sam wasn’t like that he wouldn’t hurt her, but he kept his mouth shut as she continued.

            “I woke up tied to a pillar.” Her eyes darted up to his. “He kept asking me what my mom told me about my dad’s death.”

            “He was acting strange, catty and vindictive my first reaction was that it wasn’t him, but he looked just like him it even smelled like his cologne and yet he knew things he couldn’t possibly know.” Dean shot her a quizzical look but kept his mouth shut. She hesitated for the first time “he... he knew things about Devil’s Gate reservoir that I know my mom didn’t tell him and I’m sure your father never mentioned. He knew how my dad died; he said he was bait” her voice came out thick with emotion.

“He said he was all cut up holding his insides in his hands he was gurgling, and John put him out of his misery like a sick dog. Then he said like daddy like daughter, that I was bait.”

Dean held his breath knowing the answer but compelled to ask the question regardless.

“Who were you waiting for?” he found himself whispering.

“You.” She replied. “I didn’t know until a few months after, but the angels had already captured you, and I remember thinking it was so strange that Sam didn’t know.”

“Tell me what happened?” Dean insisted Jo looked away again and refused to meet his stare her voice drifted into a purposefully neutral tone.

“He got bored.” It wasn’t what she said it was the way she said it. With feigned indifference as if she was talking about, not finding anything good on the TV or a particular dull lecture.

            Dean could picture it with perfect clarity. When he never showed, maybe the fake Sam, because that was all Dean could picture him as, waited a day, maybe just a few hours before he started carving her up. They would have started slow maybe just the quick slash across the chin before waiting a few hours and carving at her cheek. The cut was made very slowly by a very large blade Dean knew it would be similar to the hunting knife John gave both of them when they started hunting, but it couldn’t be the same one. Dean had a flash of the man he saw at Halloween. Could that really have been Sammy or was it another copy?

            “Are there more?” he wondered. His eyes traveled over her body not suggestively, but appraisingly searching for hidden wounds, checking her stance to see if she favored one side, looking for exposed skin wondering if the wicked red lines continued down her body.

She pretended not to understand. “We have seen more of this lately, people acting strangely only to show up later with no memory of what happened claiming to have been somewhere else at the time.”

Dean let her keep pretending but asked the next question.

“What happened to Sam?” he asked. She was leaning up against the car she looked at the damage before met his eyes raised a brow but didn’t answer for several moments when she finally did continue it was, in short, clipped sentences. “After two days I broke free. I stabbed him in the heart, buried him in the woods.”

Dean’s fist was clenched at his side his throat felt so tight it felt like he could barely swallow, and his chest burned with the repressed confusion and anger. He couldn’t believe that Sam would hurt Jo; he couldn’t believe that Sam was a monster. Yeah, it was a little touch and go there for a while after Jess died, but he was working through that… Then Dean got captured. Surely that wasn’t enough to change his kind, empathetic brother into the kind of monster that would torture a friend.

            Dean was ashamed to admit it, but he had his doubts if only for the briefest of moments.

“It wasn’t Sam.” Dean ultimately said his voice firm and his mind made up.

Jo started to say something and Dean cut her off insistently he started pacing

“That was not my brother.” He added hammering home his point with jabs of his finger.

            “You’re bleeding.” Jo pointed out her voice soft and cajoling. There was pity on her face, and it made him angry.

            She dug into her bag and pulled out a med kit. He wasn’t done arguing his brother’s case.

            She grabbed for his hand moving him so that he leaned up against the car. “That wasn’t Sammy.” He said again.

            She didn’t respond right away she just focused on tending to his wounds. Carefully she used tweezers to pick delicately out the small shards of glass that were embedded in his skin. It hurt, but it let him focus on the pain rather than the idea of Sammy becoming a monster because he wasn’t there for him. “I know.” She blurted as she dabbed at the cuts with an alcohol wipe before wrapping them up in white bandages.

“What?” “I know that wasn’t Sam.” She repeated quietly almost hopefully. “I guess you can say I suspected for a long time, but I never had any proof…” she stopped her ministrations and looked at him. “Dean nobody in the resistance has seen your brother in nearly four years.” The words had a foreboding edge to them.

Dean remembered something Bobby said. “What about the demons? Couldn’t he have been I don’t know a replicant or something?” she shrugged.

“I don’t know. We don’t know how they do it, we don’t know if the person is controlled or replaced. All we do know is that they react to the light.”

            What she was saying was she was here because she didn’t know if the person who attacked her was really Sam or not. She was here out of guilt. Hear out of loyalty. She wanted to find Sammy alive because then the man that hurt her hadn’t been a friend. There was a small chance that Sam was dead, but how was that news really. As much as he wanted it to differently there was already a low chance that he was alive to begin with. He was fine with that. Winchesters didn’t die easily.

            He didn’t know what to say how to reassure her that what happened to her was horrible but that it couldn’t have been his brother. He laid his hand on her arm drawing her eye contact. He offered her his silver flask. “Drink?” he asked as casually as he could manage. She raised her brow looking into his eyes for what felt like forever before taking the flask. “Cheers.”

            Murmured cynically raising the flask in a salute. She handed the container back to him he took a long draft of his own. It did nothing to warm the chill in his heart. Oddly he wished Cas was here the angle was always good for taking his mind off the worst things in his life, but he settled for Jo and their companionship. Somehow in his mind he her place had shifted from a possible romantic interest closer to the little sister he never wanted, and he was fine with that.

“Got any more?” she wondered taking another drag from the flask he sent her a withering look “You have to ask?”

***

            Castiel unconsciously scanned the location. The area was an abandoned parking lot attached to the decrepit remains of an old hotel. The small sliver of the crescent moon was mostly hidden by the clouds that scurried overhead scattered by the slightly cool breeze. His trench coat stirred with the wind uneasily. Ruby was late. It made him nervous. He didn’t trust her, and her tardiness was making him more uneasy by the second. He was taking a large risk by meeting with her if he was labeled a traitor there would be no time for explanations. His people were not known for their compassion or their patience.

            The war between their species left little quarter and additionally it was just simply distasteful. Castiel stamped his feet against the cold irked that he was forced to wait on a demon for whatever information she could give him that might be useful to the cause of finding Sam Winchester. There was no guarantee, but it was a risk he was willing to take to help Dean. The idea of failing Dean again ate away at him. His loyalty was and must always be to the Angelic order, but his promise to Dean was becoming an integral part of him as well. After several moments, he saw her. It appeared as if she came from nowhere. One moment he was scanning the empty parking lot and then she was there swaggering up from the corner of his vision her dark leather clothes and hair made her seem to be one with the darkness. The cocky bluster was her entire presence. Ruby swaggered up to him her posture was confident but her eyes belied her fear. Neither one of them was entirely comfortable.

“Hey, Angel How's tricks?” she called out with a wink sauntering up to him Castiel ignored her overly friendly greeting and waited for her to carry on

She continued talking as she approached “I still don’t see why we couldn’t have this conversation someplace else… like a bar, where they have drinks.” She insisted indignantly rather than condescend Castiel took her question seriously

“If we must work together discretion is the key to our relationship.” He murmured

Ruby snickered looking him up and down. “Yeah, you guy are about as subtle as a nuclear bomb.”

Castiel didn’t react to her sarcasm she gave him a sour look and crossed her arms over her chest.”Look, I have some info, and then I’m gone.” Castiel nodded for her to continue.

“I’m hearing a few whispers.” “And I am to trust whispers from demons?” Castiel asked tonelessly

Ruby simply glared before continuing

“Girl named Anna Milton escaped from a locked demon ward yesterday.” She stopped for a moment to let her words sink in “The demons seem pretty keen on finding her. Apparently, some real heavy hitters turned out for the Easter-egg hunt.”

“Who is she?” he asked suspiciously

“I don’t know, but I figured you would want to talk to her before the demons do. The order is to take her in alive so she must know something, possibly about Sam.”

            Castiel frowned. The news was unreliable at best. There was no guarantee that Ruby was telling the truth or that this Anna Milton would be of any use. Her information did not promise to be of use regarding Sam Winchester. It was possible Anna Milton knew nothing about Sam Winchester however if she escaped from a demon prison she would no doubt be of use to the angelic order.

“For some reason you're fighting on our side. Why is that?” he asked cocking his head to the side watching her carefully.

“Go screw yourself. That's why.” She spat out before turning to walk away after a few feet she spun back around

“And for the record what you don't know about me could fill a book.”

Castiel watched her leave. He knew it was time as much as he didn’t want it to be; he would need Dean’s help to find this Anna Milton.

 

***

“So what’s with you and the angel?” Jo asked they were sitting their backs leaned up against the car knees raised up for support continuing to take alternative swigs from a bottle that Dean brought over when the flask ran dry.

            It was maybe an hour after Jo arrived maybe more. Sitting and talking like this made time move slowly. They had a lot to catch up on. What was going on in the war, Who the president was, What in the hell a Kardashian was and no apparently they weren't another alien race, but rather than talk about that they reminisced. Do you remember that time stories were the only thing mentioned, until now. It was the first personal type question Jo asked, and it felt weird over familiar, but it shouldn't have been. Jo had seen him at his most exposed both physically and emotionally. She was in that weird in-between space between friend and lover, they never had sex but they were so much more than friends and too much on the far side of platonic to ever feel like siblings.

‘What do you mean?” Dean asked trying to be indirect.

            It wasn't that he didn't want to talk about it with Jo. He knew if he admitted a tiny crush on Cas there would be no judgment or jealousy there, but he wasn't sure how he felt.

“There is something between you two.” She continued simply. There was no censure in her tone she was simply curious about his life like any good friend would be but when it came to Cas Dean knew he was a bit sensitive.

            “It’s complicated,” he finally settled on snatching back the bottle for a gulp to keep his expression neutral. Jo knew he liked men as well as women he didn’t try to keep that from perspective partners or friends and once upon a time Jo was both.

Jo snickered “Dating a hunter is complicated. Dating the enemy is another story.” Dean knew she had a point, but he wasn’t sure what he thought of Cas.

            Cas had somehow become an important part of his life. Dean wasn’t sure what to make of it any other time he grew close to someone he found himself pushing them away. His life was dangerous. He knew it was partly because of Cassie. Even their names were eerily similar whatever happened to her was entirely his fault and yet, he knew Cas was important.

            “He is a friend” he answered finally because it wasn’t a lie. Cas was his friend. If perhaps he had a few thoughts that painted him as more that friendly it wasn’t important.

Jo nodded “We were friends once too, look how that worked out.” Her crooked smile seemed to be enhanced by the cuts on her face. He knew that wasn’t what she implied, but that was the only signal his drunken brain could process.

The people he called friends always got hurt.

            “Cas saved my life, but he also fucked it up,” Dean admitted

            “Yeah, I was rotting away in hell but my life was done, there wasn't anything complicated about it. I’d done my mission and saved my brother and did the best I could for the movement. Now I am in the middle of some complicated angelic bullshit that the angel that dragged me into it won't explain. My brother is missing, my team is losing the war my friends were hurt because I wasn't there to protect them, I feel like it’s all my fault.”

Jo looked at him “You really are stupid.” she muttered Dean glared.

            “It isn't your fault. The weight of the world doesn't rest solely on your shoulders Dean,”

            Dean let the comment slide knowing addressing it wouldn't change either of their opinions.

            “I'm not even sure I can trust him,” Dean admitted. “He promised he would help me find my brother but, face it we are on opposites sides of a no holds bar war. He has an ulterior motive, I know I would, and I know he isn't telling me everything.

Jo patted his knee. “We'll find Sam.” she insisted. “The rest you can play by ear. If the angel is like the rest of them, you will always have us. Me, my mom, Bobby and Sam.”

            Dean nodded. He knew Cas was hiding something from him; he knew more than he let on about Sammy and his disappearance but Dean realized that if push came to shove he didn't need him to find his brother. He didn't need Cas to keep him safe he was more than capable of doing that on his own, and the resistance was still his family the same as it always had been they would help him.

            His attraction to Cas was just that, a biological need. There was nothing wrong with wanting Cas   he was only human after all, but he needed to keep his head about him. He was neck deep in politics he didn't understand with an agenda that wasn't his own. He would be crazy to let his cock lead him in this.

            His only problem was convincing said cock that he didn't want to be crazy.

            He hadn't gotten laid in four years, he woke up horny went to bed horny and was generally horny and grouchy because of it all day. Not being able to find his brother wasnt the only reason behind his frustrated mood. Still he didn't have the luxury of going to a bar and going home with the first man or woman to buy him a drink. Since publically he was meant to be Cas's Limlal he wasn't allowed to have sex with anyone but his master or anyone his master ordered him to have sex with, technically he needed Cas's permission to get his own rocks off but he sure as hell wasn't asking Cas permission to jerk himself off.

            He probably could ask Cas if he could go to a bar for a hook up the angels probably had special permission slips and everything but he had too much pride for that at least currently. Not to mention if he went out on his own it would mean he'd lose his head, and he wasn't talking about his life. Betraying one's master meant you'd never have the chance to do it again. It didn't matter that he wasn't truly Cas's sex slave everyone thought he was so if he went carousing without permission there went his favorite piece of anatomy.

            Before he went to hell he wasn't very choosy. He wouldn't go so far to say he was Aromantic, but he never stayed with anyone long. The thought of someday settling down with a family haunted his dreams sometimes he would dream of Lisa this brunette he knew for a weekend during the war, sometimes it was with a man but he never dreamed of a particular man until recently. Lately, the man he saw in his dreams was a bit shorter than him with light coffee colored hair a hint of sexy stubble on his face with the most stunning blue eyes he ever knew. He wouldn't go so far as to say it was supposed to be Cas, but he wouldn't say that it wasn't him either.

            He knew that he could probably charm Jo into a mutually satisfying arrangement, but while his dick said yes his heart wasn't in it. There was too much baggage and history there with Jo for them to use each other like that, and she was drunk. He stood unsteadily and hauled Jo up with him. She teetered and nearly fell. He forgot how much she was just a little slip of a woman and while Jo could drink with the best of them her body had its limits if her bravado didn't.

            “Let's get you to bed.” he insisted knowing she would sleep better in his bed then on the cot he had set up in the garage.

            “Are you coming with me?” she wondered it wasn't an invitation more of a question, he would never know her response because he shook his head.

            “Not tonight Jo,” she nodded then flopped lazily onto the bed he helped her shed the jacket he knew her shotgun and backpack would be safe in the garage. She shed her shirt and jeans leaving her in a black bra and a matching pair of black panties that made him regret that he was a gentleman, but he wasn't going to play around with her feelings.

            He left the room when she decided she wanted to sleep naked. He was a horny bastard, but he wasn't an asshole.

            He sought out his much less comfortable cot in the garage. He would talk to Cas in the morning. He wasn't staying out of the loop any longer. He knew Cas was just trying to keep him safe but playing up this bullshit charade of being his master, but Dean was sick of it. He knew how he could find Sam, and he wasn't going to let Cas waste time doing it his way. The next chance he got Dean was doing it his way.

***

            Castiel didn't go home immediately after he spoke to Ruby. He did his due diligence in researching this Anna Milton. As far as he could tell she was a real person, but her history was sparse. Her father was a religious leader her mother taught second graders, but there was no pictures or further information he could find on her. It was disturbing. Typically angels could find most of what they needed to know about humans from social media alone, but he could not even find a picture of the woman. It was unusual. It made his stomach crawl at the thought of the computer experience it would require for a person to hide themselves this well from the angelic order.

            Either the demons wanted this girl for themselves so much that they erased much of her information to impede and any unwanted aide or discovery from an outside party. Or perhaps the woman herself had the knowledge, and the means to disappear from the angelic eyes and did so for nefarious purposes.

            The sky was just now showing the first hints of dawn nearing seven o'clock as Castiel returned home. While he did not like the idea of rousing Dean from bed this early, he knew that it was his only option. He valued Dean's insight. He had a knack for seeing the potential dangers of a situation and while he typically disregarded the danger in favor of charging into to quote “save the day” he did have a keen eye for strategy.

His mind made up he made his way towards Dean's bedroom.

            During the course of the night, he had removed his tie and undone the topmost buttons of his shirt in an effort to get more comfortable with his research. Angels were meant to convey an air of formality hence the reason they adopted human formal wear for the day to day use rather than wearing their own culture's clothing, but sometime Castiel found it to be very uncomfortable.

            He opened the door and approached the figure in the bed meaning to gently wake him.

            It wasn't until he was right upon them that he realized that the person in bed was not Dean but a scarred naked human female.

Much to his shame Castiel noticed that it was the naked adjective that most troubled him.

Castiel backed away slowly so he wouldn't wake her.

She was naked in Dean's bed likely after having spent the night having sex with Dean.

He closed the door quietly and retreated to his chamber.

           He sat heavily on his bed. He wasn't sure why the presence of the woman surprised him. Hadn't he offered the same thing to Dean when he first offered him the position as his Limla. He had offered him good food good lodgings and his pick of lovers.

            Dean wasn't his Bilora he was free to sleep with anyone he chose, but he had yet to, to his knowledge. She was the first person he had seen. Castiel wasn't sure why he was so surprised Dean was a human male, after all, one with legendary prowess and insatiability and yet it bothered him that the human had him.

            She was able to touch all the skin he had been lusting inappropriately at. He was jealous. Green with envy was not a color that suited him and yet he couldn't stop the feeling. He knew he should talk to Dean that discretion was key because while he had no right to deny Dean if he were found out it would not end well for Dean. Part of him knew that he hadn't given him carte blanch because the idea of Dean losing himself in another person bothered him. It might have been a simple oversight on his part, but it might also stem from his repressed desire.

If perhaps late at night he entertained the idea of crawling into Dean's bed and begging to be the one to service him how could he deny that the desire existed.

            Castiel ignored jealousy he knew that he had to speak to Dean. If they wanted to find Anna Milton, he needed to put both his jealousy and his desire for Dean behind him. However rather than face Dean he simply activated the household’s intercom. He rarely used it, but it was a way to communicate with household staff without knowing where they were and while it was not private his request would not sound too unorthodox.

Dean woke to the sound of a loudspeaker over his head saying his name.

            “Dean Winchester,” it was Cas's voice the gravelly tone was tighter than normal meaning he was likely pressed for time or patience. Dean noticed he sounded like that when he was irritated.

            “Please report to my bedroom, immediately your presence is required. ”

Dean's head ached and he couldn't be sure he read the situation right.nStill he could have sworn that Cas just booty called him over a loudspeaker and rather than piss him off. It kind of turned him on damn his demented horny brain.

Castiel watched as Dean entered the room his right hand, and forearm were bandaged, and he wore dark blue grey sleeveless shirt and a ratty pair a blue jeans. He looked like sex. Castiel let the notion slid over his brain without comment. It didn't matter how good Dean looked this wasn't about that. It was about Anna Milton and the possibility of finding Sam.

Castiel had decided that while it would be in his best interest to lie to Dean and tell him that Anna had information that would lead to his brother Castiel wasn't sure it would so he would tell Dean the truth or at least as much of it as he dared.

           Anna Milton was a person of interest wanted by both the demons and angels for questioning. What she knew might involve his brother it might not. He would have to trust that Dean's empathy would not stand for another human returned to a prison much like the one he escaped because Castiel knew he wouldn't be able to do it alone.

Dean wasn't sure what he was walking into. If Cas ordered him to fuck him right there right now, he wasn't sure what he would do. It was most likely his hormones interfering with his brain because Cas had said on multiple occasions that he wasn’t planning on having sex with him. Still Dean knew when someone was attracted to him, and Cas was looking at him like he wanted him.

“Dean I need your help.”

The seriousness in his tone reminded him to focus “With what?”  

“Finding a woman named Anna Milton, she was a prisoner of the demons and I need to speak to her, my source says that she might have information on your brother, but my source is unreliable at best. This may be a demonic trap.”

Dean nodded, and Castiel wasn't sure what to make of his stillness.

“Alright, let's go.” Dean finally answered. The words seemed simple on the surface, but the impact was greater. Dean was trusting him in this. He didn't question his motives or what he wanted him to do he simply agreed to go with him.

Whatever was going on between them beneath the surface didn't matter they had a mission, and they both understood what that meant. They were soldiers first, and the mission was always what mattered, but they were also friends and Dean was beginning to trust him. Which only made Castiel feel worse about keeping some of the truth from him. Still Dean didn't need to know rumors about his brother that would only hurt him. He needed truth.

Anna Milton's parents live near here if we want to get there before the demons do I suggest we hurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need willing suspension of disbelief that conveniently Anna Milton's parents live near by because I don't wanna mess with the time line with too much travel


	15. 15

Gabriel’s head buzzed with the wide assortment of drugs, alcohol and the sugar high he was riding. He smiled wolfishly as he leaned down and licked the pale pink frosting off the woman’s nipple, pink lemonade.

He stood in his underwear a white tank and red satin boxers with little white hearts on them the blonde model lay spread out on the table below him wearing the required coy smile only. He loved sweets, hated sushi, and yet liked the idea of human sushi platters.

The woman on the table below him had matching dollops of frosting along her body in a wide variety of flavors. An equally pink frosting lay against her other nipple, but he knew it would be a different flavor so rather than rush the task at hand he leaned further down and tongued the spoonful around her navel.

The taste of peach schnapps from the hollow of her navel blended with the orange icing surrounding it, the taste overwhelmed him. Fuzzy navel. If he was going to be locked up in hell, as a political prisoner for what he knew, he was going out in style… except they hadn’t come for him something that worried him.

Either they didn’t see him as a threat, given his affable personality it made sense that they would underestimate him, or he didn’t know as much of their plan as he thought.

His lady love smiled at him, but while he was enjoying this idea immensely he felt his mood sour and he didn’t want to put her through that to earn a paycheck.

“You can go ahead and bill me for the full hour and maybe I’ll see you next week.” He muttered turning away.

He grabbed his Hugh Hefner style red and black robe and went for his wallet leaving her a hundred dollar tip. She smiled and went to take a shower.

Gabe went to the bar and rather than pour himself another drink he grabbed a bottle of spring water. He needed to sober up at least enough to talk to his brother. When they did come for him, he didn’t want to leave this much unsaid between them.

You live in a society that devalues everything important about family you grow up with a few communication issues. That didn’t mean he wanted Balthazar dead. On the contrary, he stuck his neck out for him then and hell he would do it again in a heartbeat cause that’s what family does. He would also kick his ass from here all the way back to their home world if it ever came to that again, but he wouldn’t let the council kill him.

The only problem was Balthazar wasn’t returning his calls. Now he understood the frustration that caused his brother to storm over here.

   Gabe was worried, and it wasn’t like him. Still he had a bad feeling, and he knew there was only one person that made him this anxious.

After he had sobered up he made his way downtown to his brother’s villa.

He half expected to find him in the midst of an orgy, but the house was oddly quiet.

While it didn’t immediately comfort him, the silence didn’t send up any particular alarm bells either.

He opened the door with the spare key he had made for emergencies. The smell of the house instantly alerted him it was musty and yet strangely sweet. He knew the fragrance meant death.

The thick bitter smell of old blood overlaid with the sickly sweet simultaneously rancid smell of decay.

Gabe moved on instinct towards the source. The villa was in order, there were no obvious signs of distress, but a cold fear had formed a lump in the pit of his stomach that wouldn’t go away.

If Balthazar was dead, he no longer had a stake in the outcome of this war.

There were other inhabitable planets with beings of equal interest. If that were the case, he would leave and let the world burn for a while come back when it was over, he couldn’t watch his people destroy themselves.

The demons and the feud between the species was going to be the end of them one way or another.

He tracked the smell to the kitchen, a little-used room in Balthazar’s villa when the man much preferred to order out. The smell overwhelmed him. The body was in the late stages of decomposition; obviously it had been here a while.

   The skin had darkened to a putrid purple, falling off the bone in places. The gaping wound in the side told the whole story. It was murder. The body was missing key elements like the hands, feet and head perhaps in an effort to resist identification, but it made no sense because the man was killed inside his own home.

Gabriel knew that this man was meant to be his brother; he wanted to doubt the truth of the statement. His brain tried to find all the flaws within the scene as a way to deny that this body before him that was dark and covered in gore was not his brother.

It couldn’t be his brother. He would have died the day his last saw him over a month ago. The thought chilled his heart.

He turned his brother away removed his hope and placed him in the crosshairs by talking to him.

He clenched his teeth. The brand of a traitor rested on the body’s decomposing shoulder barely discernable.

Gabe knew that this body was not his brother. He wasn’t sure how he knew; the resemblance was uncanny even beneath all the rot.

Still it couldn’t be Balthazar. His brother wasn’t dead he had to be in hiding.

Gabe nodded heavily almost to himself. His brother was alive, but it was up to him to sell the story.

***

Anna Milton’s parents were dead. Dean felt sadness at their unnecessary loss, but it was a sign that they were on the right track with finding this girl. The burnt out eyes eerily resembled Pamela wounds, from the angel strike team. Somebody wanted this girl bad, and they didn’t have a problem leaving a mess in their wake.

“We are too late,” Dean muttered looking at the bloody bodies of her parents.

The girl escaped from prison just to wind up an orphan in the process. He could sympathize. He was technically an orphan also.

“Not necessarily…” Cas murmured slowly. He was holding a picture in his hand and studying it.

“The information said that her father was a church deacon correct?” he queried

“That’s what you told me,” Dean confirmed.    

“This building, would this qualify as a church?” he asked showing Dean a picture of Anna Milton’s parents, minus all the blood and gore, standing in front of a semi- ornate stained glass window. That likely belonged to their church. It was a picture of an archangel a warrior of God. The chance symbolism was not lost on him.

“If you were religious and scared, and had demons on your ass, where would you most feel safe?” muttered staring at the church.

 

He felt sorry for the girl. A lot of people gave up on religion when the angels came and took over. Real life aliens came down co-opted religious symbolism not a lot of people could stick with their beliefs. Hell, Dean gave up on religion before his first hunt. This Anna chick not only kept her faith but took shelter in it.

Cas nodded “Let’s go.” He insisted.

Dean turned to follow suit. Cas hadn’t made him wear the collar today. He was casually dressed trying to blend in, and Cas still wore his suit if a bit more casually than before. His suit jacket replaced by the tan trench coat his blue tie askew. Cas had been strangely quiet on the drive over here.

After he had talked to Cas he went back to his room, Jo had already left by the time he arrived. He wanted to talk to her. Let her know what was going on but he figured she needed the space.

He knew what it was like when a person reminded them of all the used to be.Still he didn’t like how things were left between them. There were a lot of things he was good at; expressing his emotions was not one of them.

The thought that he might never have gotten a chance to tell Jo how he felt about her even if he wasn’t a hundred percent what it was scared him.

Dean glanced over at Cas. He was sitting quietly on the passenger side; Dean was grateful that he was able to drive. As a slave everything was left up the Cas’s will.

He wasn’t sure how much longer they were going to work together if they found Sammy, what then? Cas had said that his only goal was helping him find Sammy but once that was accomplished what would happen to their friendship? Dean wasn’t sure.

The church was a modest sized one with white wooden paneling accented by the prominent stained glass window. The lower level hosted several empty pews and a small pulpit behind it; he could see the staircase that led to the upper level.

After he teamed up with Cas he had set some ground rules about protection he pulled out his stainless steel finished Taurus PT92 with mother of pearl grips a 9mm, standard with 17-round magazine.

Cas frowned but said nothing after seeing Anna’s parents dead he knew erring on the side of caution was prudent. Cas pulled out the long silver circular angel blade.

Dean and Cas carefully made their way upstairs. Once there, they glanced around the storage room.

“Anna we are not going to hurt you we are here to help,” Dean called out hoping the girl was safe and within earshot.

“This is my buddy Cas and my name is Dean…”

“Dean…?” asked a small voice from behind a screen. “Not Dean Winchester?”

Dean shot Cas a confused look, but the angel’s face remained impassive.

“Uh… yeah,” he answered bemused.

A woman stepped out from behind the screen. The first thing he noticed about her was her striking red hair. The next thing was the fact that she was looking at him like he was Ryan Gosling, what he caught up with the tabloids he had a lot of spare time on his hands,

“You’re Dean…?” she asked her voice soft and shaky hesitantly   “ _The_ Dean?” she asked emphasized “Well… yeah.”   Dean felt the self-assured flattered cocky grin slip on like second nature. “The Dean,” “It’s really you.” She muttered with a stunned reverence

“The demons talked about you all the time, you were in hell, but Castiel pulled you out and some of them think you can help save us.”

She glanced over at Cas before hesitantly adding “and some of them don’t like you at all.”

“So you talked to the demons? About me?” he asked confused one how some random girl knew some much about him or that some random demons did. How was he supposed to save them? Did she mean demons or humans? She looked human but honestly under first inspection they all did.

Dean wasn’t sure what this girl was talking about maybe she was crazy.

“No.” she muttered looking away. “They would ask me about you and your family. They kept thinking I knew something kept thinking I was someone that I’m not.”

“Do you know how long you were imprisoned?” Cas asked suddenly speaking up. Dean looked over at him. He was tensed. His mouth was in a firm, angry line. Yeah, he knew something he wasn’t letting on about. She nodded then shook her head.

“Not the length of time, but I can tell you the exact day and the first thing they said to me. It was September 18th. They said Dean Winchester has been saved.”

Dean looked at Cas how the hell did it matter to anyone besides his family and maybe the resistance that he got out of hell?

Dean didn’t think he was anything special. Not really. He hadn’t even finished high school he was just a soldier. He wasn’t a general or a leader. Maybe he could help push the Angels back as a resistance fighter but end the war? As much as he wanted to think that he could he wasn’t that optimistic. He just wanted to find his brother.

“Did they say why they thought I was going to help?” Dean wondered. “No, I’m sorry,” Anna muttered quietly.

Dean nodded he was so confused, but he glanced over at Cas who seemed equal as confused.

Suddenly a woman ran into the room she was a tall brunette.

The gun that Dean had lowered to his side while talking to Anna trained immediately on the stranger.

“Ruby” Cas growled.

“You got the girl. Good, let's go.” The Brunette shouted to Cas. She looked frightened as if she was only a few steps ahead of a monster. Dean and Cas exchanged glances. Cas knew her alright, more secrets.

“What are doing here?” Cas asked he sounded surprisingly angry.

“It's okay. I’m here to help” she insisted. Waving her arms for emphases

“Don’t be too sure.” Cas scoffed narrowing his eyes, clutching his weapon.

Dean turned to Cas “What is she talking about?”

“This is Ruby she is my contact that helped me find Anna. She is a Demon” that explained Cas’s immediate distrust. However, Dean sensed that there was more to it.

We have to hurry!” Ruby insisted urgently.

“Why?” Dean asked hesitantly he felt like he was being swept along by a current pushing him into places he didn’t understand.    

He was a player in a deadly game, and he didn’t know his part in it or the stakes.

“Because someone is coming. A big-timer. We can fight later,” she looked genuinely nervous.

Dean had enough he wanted Cas to explain this to him right fucking now.

“Well, that's pretty convenient -- showing up right when we find the girl with some bigwig on your tail?” Dean muttered not sure who to trust.

“I didn't bring him here. You did.” She swore

Dean raised his gun “I can take him out.” he asserted. Not sure what side everyone was on. He would sort that out with the big bad was down, and they had the girl somewhere safe.

Ruby shook her head, “No you can’t you’re not strong enough” she sounded forlorn.

Gun still pointed at the door Dean glanced over his shoulder at Cas

Cas had obviously been lying to him he knew way more than he let on.

“It’s too late,” Ruby whispered awestruck. “He’s here.”

He had warned him that this might be a trap, but talking to demons? If they were supposed to be mortal enemies why were they talking?

“What the fuck is going on?” Dean shouted to Cas.

“I was just about to ask you that?”

Dean felt all the blood drain out of his entire body. There was no way in hell, after all, this time he spent looking for him he thought he would find his brother like this.

Sam looked different than the last time he saw him his hair was longer; he looked fitter like he had been working out. He wore a tight-fitting black v neck shirt under a black leather jacket and honest to god black leather pants. If Dean wasn't at a loss for words right now, he would have made fun of his brother for stepping out of a goth movie.

Before Dean was able to process what was going on Sam shot his hand out directed at Ruby.

Her eyes flashed black as the membrane slid over her eyes. Her hands raised in defense.

Sam smirked “You don’t have the juice.” He taunted flinging Ruby against the railing and down the small set of stairs. Dean was fucking stunned he had no idea what to say.

“Sammy?” he asked unsurely. His gun was still trained on him, but he knew his grip was wavering.

It looked like Sammy, but he was using fucking telekinesis. It moved like Sammy as he approached him hands upraised in a supplicating posture but why would his brother be doing this? Was Sam the big timer?

“I don’t want to hurt you Dean; I just want the girl.” He maintained calmly

Cas had disappeared from view, and so had the girl.

Dean wasn’t sure what to do. Sam made that decision for him. An unbelievable force shoved him against the wall. Like a gale force wind was generated by Sam except it was focused solely on him.

Sam looked almost sad. “Where is the girl Dean?” he asked

From the corner of his eye, he saw Cas take the girl down the stairs. So he endeavored to distract his brother, or at least what looked like his brother. “Who are you?”

The intense wind stopped, and Dean was able to pull away from the wall but only for a moment until Sam’s punch knocked him back into it.

“What Dean, don’t recognize your brother?” he asked pulling back for another punch.

When suddenly Ruby stabbed him in the shoulder. He flung her off knife still protruding from his back.

Dean didn’t know Ruby, and he didn’t trust her, but at that moment they made eye contact and she jerked her gaze towards the window, and he knew what she meant.

Out of options short of possibly killing his brother Dean nodded, and they both charged towards the window.

They landed hard. Dean had hit the window first shards of glass embedded themselves in his arms. He glanced around for his baby she was still there. So he assumed that Cas found his own means of transporting the girl to safety.

He glanced up to see his brother standing in the jagged hole of the window glaring down at him.

He shuddered before pulling the demon to her feet and limping towards the car.

They didn’t have a moment to relax until they reached a motel. The Demon paid for the room Dean went along with it knowing that he would only arouse suspicion.

The whiskey was his.

“Are you almost done?” she demanded from the bathroom. She had removed the leather jacket while it had protected her from most of the glass it had put strain on her shoulder. He could hear her moving around in the bathroom likely studying the best way to pop it back into its socket. He had heard a lot about demon’s supposed strength he wondered where the fuck that was during the fight with Sam

He chugged another mouth full of whiskey trying to gather up his nerve before he pulled on the next stitch.

“I'm going as fast as I can.” He muttered through clenched teeth. He used the bottle and poured the whiskey over his wound before taking another chug. He wasn’t sure what was worse, his cut going septic, or wasting whiskey he could be drinking using it as disinfectant.

“Good, 'cause you know I got a dislocated shoulder over here.” She shouted from the bathroom.

“Yeah. I'll pop it back when I'm finished.” He grunted.

“Gimme that.” She snarled grabbing the bottle from him.

He hissed at the pain as her grabbing the bottle jerked his arm. Blood welled up from the cut.

He glanced over at her trying to get a read on her. She was a demon that put a notch in the don’t trust column, but she hadn’t tried to kill him yet and while Cas wasn’t a hundred percent on the trust with her. He hadn’t been fully honest with Dean either.

“So you stabbed my brother?” he asked accusingly

“Yeah, saving your ass.” She agreed. Dean frowned before continuing.

“Who the hell was that guy?” Dean asked wanting answers, but afraid of what she might say at the same time.

“No one good.” She responded quietly he couldn’t tell if her tense expression was caused by physical or emotional pain. He knew she was in a lot of pain, but he wasn’t in any hurry to fix her shoulder till he got some answers.

“Was that really my brother or some demon copy?” he wondered.

She shrugged with her good shoulder and responded tensely “I don’t know.” Her voice was oddly sympathetic. “Bull fucking shit you don’t know!” Dean shouted angrily straining. The girl sat down on the bed with him. “Honestly I don’t, I can’t be sure.”

“So what, is it a robot?” he asked leaping up, pacing agitatedly

She laughed “Do you think robots could use psychic powers or bleed?”  

“What else could it be?” “Try human cloning, short bus.” He simply scowled at her.

“With a dash of consciousness insertion.” “Is that a dirty as it sounds?” he quipped to cover his lack of understanding and fear.

“It can get messy depending on if anyone is actually home at the time.”

“So does that even mean my brother is alive?” she frowned and looked away. There was something there beneath the surface something strangely sentimental. “He was nine months ago.” She confirmed. She looked dangerously close to crying before she stood up and stepped away from him. With her back to him he could just make out her swiping at her eyes.

“We’ve got to find Anna.” She added after a moment.

“Cas’s got her. I'm sure she's okay.” He insisted brushing it off he stood and moved holding her shoulder “All right. Come on. On three. One...” Dean forced her shoulder back in the place, and she groaned in pain

She raised her eyebrow. “You trust that angel? I thought you Winchesters had it out for them as much as my kind did,” he looked at her. “I don’t even trust you.”He scoffed with a laugh. “But, he saved my life.”

“Fair enough” she agreed with a nod “but I think it's just as likely he used us to find the girl and then brought that… “She paused and looked at him “…person… in to kill us.”

“No, he took Anna to keep her safe.”

“Yeah. Well, why hasn't he called to tell us where he is?”

“Because fake Sam is probably watching us right now, waiting to follow us right back to Anna again. That's why he let us go.”

“You call this letting us go?” she demanded

“Yeah, I do. Look, killing us would've been no problem. That's why, for now, we just got to lay low and wait for Cas to contact us.”

She shook her head   “Why do you trust him so much?” she asked incredulously “he’s a fucking angel you know the same thing that killed your mom.”

“How do you know about that?” she rolled her eyes “besides the fact that its common knowledge about your dads vendetta train, Sam told me.”

Dean wasn’t sure why he was bothering to answer this demon’s question hell she was probably just as dangerous as the angels were but he had never actually met a demon he just heard bad things about them from Cas and a few vague stories from people. He had grown up his entire life hating Angel’s he felt a strange need to defend his trust.

“I told you” He answered deflated.

She shook her head. “You got to do better than that,” she raised her hands up defensively “Hey and I'm not trying to pick a fight here. I mean, I really want to understand. How someone like you, angel hater of the year, becomes BFF with an angel? I mean, I deserve to know more.”

“Yeah, Whys that?” he wondered hostilely “Hey I’ve saved your life too, and you won’t stop clutching the knife every time I step closer.” She accused.

Dean knew she was right, and for the second time in a day he found himself retelling his story

He had reached the portion when he woke up and realized that Cas had freed him from hell for the second time, and he woke up in his bed when she jumped up.

“Skip the nudity, please,” she asked with disdain and disgust.

“There…” he cleared his throat. Surprised at how strangely guilty he sounded “There was no nudity.” She gave him a skeptical look “Right…”

“Seriously” he insisted Ruby shrugged. “Just fuck him already and get it over with.” She sneered.

“What?”

“It’s obvious you wanna bone him I say do it get it over with and let me help you actually find your brother.

“And why are you offering me such brilliant advice?” he asked sarcastically.

“Same as you, because I love him.”

 


	16. 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow updates lately. computer problems.

Castiel was conflicted. The girl was safe, they had managed to flee and elude capture from the perusing Sam Winchester. However they had lost Dean in the process, and while Castiel had great trust in Dean’s abilities as a fighter. He had his doubts on how he would react to his brother being the enemy. Additionally things were complicated because he knew that the girl before him was not a random human dragged into an interspecies war, but rather an Angel charged with treason, his former commanding officer at that. They were at his villa while he knew it was not the most secure location it was the most fortified in his surrounding area. It might look like a pleasure villa, but Castiel was no fool, after the first incursion on his property he had increased security he even utilized Bobby Singer’s services.

Rather than retire to his private chambers they were in the Tablinium. His office of sorts by human standards. This room was where most of his business was conducted. The marble mosaic was more intricate here than his bedroom. The bedroom was designed for functionality while this was the room of statesmen it was designed to impress. Sheer red curtains hung from the door frame, and while the room was interior it held one window pointed towards the courtyard. The walls were inlaid with gold and four pillars encircled, a lowered seating section. The room was by no means as ostentatious as some of his compatriots, and yet he was struck with the disparity between his kind and humans. The girl trembled on one of the settees

Anael showed no signs of recognition towards him, and rather than act like the commanding fearless angel he knew her to be, she shrank and sobbed, begging for her life. For all outward appearances, she believed she was human and in a way he could not disagree with her.

Castiel had no intention of harming her, and yet his assurances of this elicited no reaction; she was afraid. An emotion he was quickly becoming accustom too. He was unsure how he would be able to contact Dean, without endangering him.

If it was known that Dean was no longer in his possession that he had “escaped” with a demon. It was likely that none of his fellow angels would stop to ask and imprison him possibly go as far as to kill him on sight. There was also the issue of Sam Winchester. This complicated things. He knew that Sam had become addicted to Demon blood. He had not known that he became a demonic servant. This had unknown ramifications towards his deal with Dean.

If Sam willingly became a demonic servant Castiel had no right to forcibly remove him not from a legal manner. With the exception of slaves, Angels were not permitted to interfere with human’s free will.

If his situation was not complicated, enough Uriel informed him he was required to bring Anael in for questioning. Castiel did not want to disobey an order and yet, he was not sure how he could morally free the girl from one tortuous prison only to hand her over to another. Least of all how betrayed Dean would feel by his actions.

His thoughts troubled him; he knew that he should obey his orders without questioning, and yet he had them. He had doubts. He knew Dean to be a righteous man, and he knew that he would not want Castiel to hand a defenseless girl over to someone as cruel as Uriel regardless of who she used to be.

His decision made he removed his cell phone from his pocket.

***

“Your boyfriend’s calling,” Ruby muttered petulantly tossing him her phone.

Dean shot her a dirty look but answered it regardless. “Hello.”

“Dean?” it was surprisingly good to hear Cas’s voice.

“Hey man,” he responded surprised at how thick his voice was. His whole world was upside down, and Cas was a lifeline. Even if he was half of his confusion.

“You got the girl?” Dean asked trying to focus.

“Yes,” Dean nodded knowing that Cas couldn’t see him but unable to stop the motion.

“Where are you?” Cas asked Ruby grabbed the phone. “Safe for now.” She insisted vaguely the open hostility in her voice was biting.

“How do I know that girl isn’t already in angelic custody or six feet under?” she asked antagonistically. Dean glared, but it seemed that Cas was not perturbed by her because he heard the soft sounds of Anna on the other end.

“Dean?” She asked. Dean took the phone back from Ruby. “I’m here, where are you?” he asked.

“My villa.” Cas responded. Dean nodded again. What it lacked in subtly, it made up for in fortifications. “Yeah ok see you in twenty.” He answered hanging up.

Ruby shot him a dirty look

“What do you have a screw loose or something?” she demanded incredulously “we…” she began Dean’s eyes narrowed “Ok… I sure as hell won’t be walking into that angel’s lair.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourself, but I’m going to help Anna and figure out while the whole mess of you want this girl dead.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ruby muttered snidely. “Enlighten me then” he insisted.

“She knows something the demons want that the angels don’t want them to know. Your boyfriend played you.”

Dean wasn’t sure of Cas’s loyalties in the long run, but he knew that he hadn’t lied to him about Anna.

“No” he maintained shaking his head “Cas isn’t like that.”

She shook her head pityingly “He has you wrapped around his little finger.” She flung her hands out in emphasis “He’s got you tied up in so many knots you can’t see your way out.”

Dean didn’t respond. He didn’t believe her, but that didn’t stop the doubt that creeped in.

Cas was his friend, but he wasn’t that far in denial to ignore that he wanted him, but it was more than that. It was more than pure physical. That was the part that scared him. He had been with a lot of people, but he couldn’t say he felt this way about any of them even Cassie or Jo. He loved Jo in his way but with Jo that love had never been as equals, and Cassie. If he looked back on it now, he realized he had never been in love with her. Over the years, he built up these feelings for her that were built on romanticized memories. Honestly, he knew nothing about her. She was a casualty of war because of him and at the time it felt that it meant just a little more if he loved her. His feelings for Cas were hard to put into words. He trusted him; there was an easy companionship. Was his judgment skewed because of how he was starting to feel about him?

“You coming?” he asked her checking his gun. She watched him looking almost forlorn. When she spoke, it was wistful.

“Sam used to talk about you all the time like you were some kind of Superman.” She informed him before continuing pessimistically

“I hope he was right.”

***

“She’s a what?” Dean demanded knowing exactly what Cas said but still having trouble grasping it. This girl in front of him didn’t exactly gel with his image of an angel, not that Cas did either.

They were at Cas’s Villa Anna was sleeping in his room. They were in Cas’s office. Dean wanted answers.

“Her name is Anael and she was my commanding officer… a long time ago.”

“How long are we talking?” Dean asked knowing he’d regret it.

“A few hundred years.” Sometimes it was easy to forget how old Cas was. It was easy to forget when they were alone that they weren’t the same species.

“What happened?” Ruby asked from her corner. She came with him, but she was obviously unhappy about it. Her stiff posture and shifty eyes made it clear that she would not be surprised if Cas attacked her outright.

“She disobeyed.” He replied. As if it said it all which Dean assumed it did.

“How come she doesn’t remember?” he wondered. Cas wore a pensive look on his face.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. He bit his lip and Dean found himself loosing focus.

He knew he should be angry with Cas that he shouldn’t trust him, but he did.

“Someone must have erased her memory, but for the life of me I cannot fathom why.”

Dean nodded not understanding but unsure what else to do.

“So what does that mean for us?” Dean wondered “What was she hiding?”

“Why don’t you just ask me to my face?” Anna demanded angrily Dean felt oddly guilty talking about her behind her back.

Ruby however had no compunction and immediately switched gears.

“Is there anything you want to tell us?” Ruby asked, “The angels said you were guilty of something, do you remember what?” she inquired leadingly.

“You tell me. Tell me why my life has been leveled—why my parents are dead. I don't know, I swear. I would give anything to know.”

“Ok then let’s find out,” Cas muttered.

Up until that moment, Cas had been quiet. It was obvious that he recognized Anna the moment he saw her. Dean but he knew that was the extent of his deception. At least in this.

Dean watched uncomfortable as Anna lay back on the sofa.

Dean wasn’t sure what this whole thing was about anymore. He started it trying to find his brother, and it worked but not in the way he planned, but now this girl was counting on him as much as Sammy ever did.

She was just as mixed up in the convoluted demon angel politics as he was except she couldn’t even remember why she was there. At least he knew why he started out.If he was confused why he stayed, why he came back with the angel rather than try to stick it out on his own like he usually did that was his problem to sort out.

“Pamela, hey!” Dean called out greeting her.

“Dean?” She asked disoriented Pity crossed his face, but he was glad she couldn’t see it. “It's me. It’s Dean” he whispered not sure why he lowered his voice but unable to speak any louder.

“Dean, is that you?” she asked reaching out for his face. “I'm right here.”

“Oh. Know how I can tell?” She queried “That perky little ass of yours. You could bounce a nickel off that thing. Of course, I know it's you, grumpy. Same way I know that's a demon, and that poor girl's Anna and that you've been eyeing my rack.

“Uh... uh... uh...”

“Don't sweat it, kiddo. I still got more senses than most.” Dean knew what the exchange truly meant she didn’t blame him and didn’t want him to blame himself either. More choked up than he would admit he replied

“Got it.” Ending the exchange

Pamela held the girls hand. Dean was a firsthand witness to her power; he didn’t want to believe it, but he knew if anyone could unlock the girl’s memories it was her. Her eyes were replaced by white plastic. A fresh wave of guilt ran through him. It was his fault that she lost her eyes. Part of him could argue that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it was semantics. If he had been there or if he had taken her with him she would have been fine.

***

Castiel watched Pamela whisper to Anael from the door. He couldn’t bring himself to step further into the room Castiel was worried there was such history between him and her and yet when she fell he cut ties with her. She disobeyed and was banished and yet this very moment he too had disobeyed, but he hadn’t done it for Anael. All the years the four of them spent together in battle. Anael, Balthazar, Uriel and himself this wasn’t for her.

The leader he knew would have turned him in. She had followed the rules; the tenants laid down to them for generations, obedience, piety, selflessness until the day she fell. He wasn’t there when she fell. He did not know her reasoning or the situation that led her to give up all of her lifelong beliefs and yet he was in the same position as she was.

He had always fully believed that what they were doing was the best thing for everyone. The angelic state was benevolent, they expected the most from its citizens and offered protection and stability to lesser species, but Dean wasn’t a lesser species and were they truly helping humanity?

He stepped away from the door not wanting to be there when she remembered. Who and what she was. He almost expected her to reproach him for disobeying. If he was completely honest. He envied her. She was free. Free of all of it. Of the duty the responsibility all the weight that came with being a servant of God. She was human, in spirit if not in actual genetics, she was free to care for anyone. Free to love and be loved as she pleased. Just like the woman from the resistance who had so recently been in Dean’s bed.

The freedom of desire and love was not given to his kind. Angels were not allowed individuality they were not allowed to place themselves above the state. Until now Castiel had always believed it was for the best, but now he wasn’t so sure. How many centuries had this war cost his people? They hadn’t advanced in eons. How many species had they ravaged like parasites in order to survive?

“Hello, Castiel” Came the voice from behind him. He stiffened not sure what he expected. He still remembered how she criticized him for his behavior with Haziel.  

He smiled softly. “Hello Anael” she was still dressed like Anna Milton but, it was obvious that she was no longer the naive young girl.

“Castiel,” she acknowledged with a slight nod.

The tension was palpable. They had a history that went back thousands of years. While it wasn’t a sexual history, the bond forged as fellow soldiers was a solid one.

“So...Castiel, you’re the one that came for me?” she asked hesitantly. It was obvious she wasn’t yet sure what side he was on.

“Yes.” He admitted even if he omitted the fact that he had not known it was her.

She nodded perceptively “I'm sure I have a death sentence on my head.”

“I have orders to turn you over to Uriel.” A surprised look crossed her face.

“Is he your boss now?” she wondered. Castiel didn’t respond. “He is the specialist.”

Her eyes widened as she understood what he meant. Torture, murder, genocide, whatever the angelic order required.

“And you refused?” she wondered there was no judgment in her eyes if anything it was a strange pity. He didn’t understand it, but before he had the chance to question her further she moved on.

“So they want me alive.” “At least at first,” Ruby muttered Castiel glared at the demon. “What I was just saying what everyone was thinking, little miss angel wings is screwed… Speaking of what happened to those?” she wondered pointing to her back.

“I fell,” she answered. “They were removed, as were my memories.”

“Wait a minute. I don't understand. So, angels can just become human?” Dean asked.

“Not human, per say,” Castiel replied “Our powers are enhanced by our regeneration without it, we revert to a human-like state of helplessness.”

“Hey, I do alright.” Dean groused.   “It kind of hurts.” Anael cut in. They all turned to her.

“Try cutting your kidney out with a butter knife. That kind of hurt. Removing my grace the energy that gives angels their abilities. It is utter agony; I could have done without remembering that part.”

“So you lost your memories on purpose?” Dean wondered. She looked at him. That strange ethereal grace that the angels all seemed to contain showed on her face as she watched him like a cat.

“Yes” there was more to that answer but Ruby interrupted.

“I don't think you all appreciate how completely screwed we are,” Ruby muttered.

“Ruby's right. Heaven wants me dead.” Anael agreed.

 

“And Hell just wants her. A flesh-and-blood angel that you can question, torture, that bleeds. Sister, you're the Stanley Cup. And sooner or later, Heaven or Hell, they're gonna find you.”

Castiel thought perhaps he saw Anael flinch, but she didn’t let that shake her resolve.

“I know. And that's why I'm gonna get it back.” She insisted firmly. “You can do that?” Dean wondered.

“Yes, if I can get to a regeneration pod.”

 

“So, what, you're just gonna take some divine bong hit, and, shazam, you're Roma Downey?”

 

“Something like that. Except it will take a lot longer than that to kick in.”

Castiel watched as Dean’s face lit up. They had a plan it didn’t matter how insane or foolhardy it was Dean was behind it. His courage and loyalty were astounding to Castiel.

“All right. I like this plan. So, where do we need to go to get this grace of yours?”

***

“Pamela get home okay?” Anna asked she was leaning against his car waiting. The plan was that they would try to sneak her into one of the regeneration facilities later that night. It was stupid and risky but those adjectives fit half his life, and he didn’t care. The night was cool but not overly cold, and it was strangely quiet. A solemn night.

The Sam plan was on the back burner. Seeing the doppelganger Sam hadn’t changed his resolve to find his brother. It just muddied the waters. He wasn’t sure where Sam was anymore, and he knew Anna didn’t know anything about his brother, but he couldn’t just leave her to fend her for herself. He knew that she was the same thing he had been fighting his entire life but and maybe it was a bit sexist on his part; he couldn’t just let her face it alone.

 

“Yeah. She said she was sorry. It's just after last time, she, uh... This is just a little too rich for her blood.

Anna nodded sadly. “I don't blame her. You guys should do the same.” She muttered after a few moments. This isn’t a place for humans. Castiel and I can handle this.” It seemed like she meant it, but Dean knew self-sacrifice when he saw it. She needed his help, and that was the family business.

 

“Well, I’m not that smart.” Dean said casually. As he checked his gun for the third time. It was still the same as the first, but he was nervous. For this to work, Anna would need a full twenty-four hours in that regeneration pod for her to have a fighting chance.

“Can I ask you something? What do they want me for? Why did they save me?”

She frowned softly.

“I'm sorry. The demons didn’t talk about it, and it was after I fell.”

 

“That's another question. Why would you fall?” He wondered honestly at a loss for why anyone would want to be human when they had the strength and power of an angel.

“Why would you want to be one of us?”

Anna looked away almost hurt by his words. “You don't mean that.” She insisted vehemently, and it made him wonder. They were the people in charge they had control of the whole goddamned human race how bad could they have it?

“I don't?” Dean asked incredulously raising a brow “A bunch of -- of miserable bastards... Eating, crapping, confused, afraid.”

Anna was looking at him like he had all the money in the world and rather than spend it he lit it on fire.

 

“I don't know. There's loyalty... forgiveness... love.”

 

“Pain.” He reminded her not sure why he was the one arguing against being human. “Chocolate cake.” She added wistfully “Guilt.” He countered. “Sex.” She finished unwaveringly.

He nodded wholeheartedly “Yeah, you got me there.” She continued warmly

“I mean it. Every emotion, Dean, even the bad ones... It's why I fell. It's why... why I'd give anything not to have to go back… Anything.” He could see the fear in her eyes and the complete and utter yearning for another option. She didn’t want to be one of them all of her being wanted nothing to change and yet she was going back. He didn’t even begin to understand. Maybe he had never taken the time to ask Cas what life was like for angels, but surely it couldn’t be that bad.

 

“Feelings are overrated if you ask me.”

He muttered thinking of his complicated swirl of emotions regarding everyone. He loved his family, but he sacrificed his entire being for them and memories of them. He cared about Cas his fucking lifelong enemy who somehow became his friend. His entire understanding of self, was based on a hatred of a species who were a lot more than the black and white image he held in his mind. They weren’t evil, cruel, capricious, and callous at times yes, but not evil.

“Beats being an angel.” She affirmed. “Your entire life you are taught that everything that makes living worth it is just a distraction. That family doesn’t matter. That love is irrelevant. That your life is worthless in comparison to the good of the state.”

Dean’s brows knit together in confusion. “How's that possible?” he wondered skeptically “You guys are powerful and perfect. You don't doubt yourselves or God or anything.”

Anna chuckled bitterly. Like she had heard the words before but never got over the sting. “Perfect…” she spat out angrily “Like a marble statue. Cold... no choice... only obedience. Dean, do you know how many angels have actually seen God? Seen his face?” she jabbed accusingly

 

“All of you?” Dean assumed. “Four angels.” She answered severely “Four… And I'm not one of them. It had never occurred to him that not everyone saw their leader.

“That's it? Well, then how do you even know that there is a God?”

That bitter smile slipped back on her face as if the say that was the point of all of this.

 

“We have to take it on faith... Which we're killed if we don't have.”

 

“Huh.” Found himself responding. Cas’s struggle making his own decisions was starting to make a lot more sense now.

 

“I was stationed on earth 2,000 years before the invasion as a scout. Just... watching... silent... invisible... out on the road... sick for home... waiting on orders from an unknowable father I can't begin to understand. So don't tell me that --

Dean found himself laughing regardless of how serious the situation was. Damn it. He had more in common with the angels than he would ever care to admit.

 

“What is so funny?” she demanded “Nothing. Sorry. It's just...I can relate. My dad spent his whole life giving me orders telling me who to fight and where and I’m just now starting to realize that he didn’t know you guys any more than I did. The man was running on blind hate.”

Anna nodded “That I can relate to. Our people have been fighting the demons so long we can barely even remember why. We conquer planets and enslave its people almost as second nature now. We lost any benevolence we ever possessed in the never-ending search for revenge on people long dead over slights that are meaningless now.”

“It’s time to go” Ruby called out from behind them Dean turned to see Cas watching them with a weird look on his face, but he nodded and slung himself behind the wheel.

They were headed to the same facility that Cas healed him; at least that was what Cas told him. Dean pointed the car in the right direction.

Cas was beside him while Anna and Ruby were in the backseat. The very air felt tense like he could hardly breathe beneath the weight of it. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing or not. Hell, if he was honest he wasn’t sure if he ever knew that, but Anna didn’t want to go back to being one of them and yet it was the only way they could protect her.

The tension must have been getting to him as he glanced back in the rear-view mirror laughing to himself he had a strange and out of context thought.

 

What? Ruby wondered petulantly

“Nothing. It's just an angel and a demon riding in the backseat. It's like the setup to a bad joke... or a Penthouse Forum letter."

 

Ruby rolled her eyes “Dude... Reality... Porn.”

"I’m teaming up with aliens to break into an alien facility to use a regeneration pod and repower said alien. You call this reality?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what everyone thinks. Comments help.


	17. 17

***

They were outside the facility. It was just after eleven but the street was oddly quiet. Castiel watched Dean from across the street. His heart was in his throat, but he struggled to keep his expression clear.

“You’ve changed,” Anael told him quietly. She was studying him. Dean and Ruby were attempting the break in as they spoke. Castiel did not approve of the idea of Dean being in danger, but he had more experience in this case than either Anael or himself. Castiel had confidence in Dean’s abilities, but this wasn’t his fight. Castiel was not even sure if this fight was his.

“I believe I am the one who should say that.” He replied. Anael seemed so free, and much more relaxed than he remembered. Was rebelling that freeing?

“The person you remember was a lie.” She replied smiling fondly. “I was your leader, I couldn’t show any weakness, that was a long time ago.”

He nodded absently “Lifetimes.” He agreed nothing in his life changed until he met Dean Winchester, and afterwards nothing was the same.

“, but you falling in love with a human I can honestly say I never thought I’d see the day.”

Castiel spun on her she was smiling slightly.

“What do you mean?” he demanded “It was just a hunch, but your reaction confirmed it.”

Castiel knew he had a strange look on his face, but love was not an emotion his kind acknowledged. He couldn’t even be sure this stirring he felt towards Dean was love.

“He means a lot to you.” She continued. Acknowledging his confusion. “You respect him and value his opinion. You are equals.” Castiel nodded not seeing her point. “You trust his judgment and even defer to him.” Castiel acknowledged the truth he would not yet call it love. He cherished Haziel, as a friend and companion, but their very inequality led to their destruction, and while he felt as if Dean and he were equals. There was an inequality built into their relationship that he did not know how to defeat. Dean was human, and a slave and even when this was over. Once Castiel had honored his agreement and freed, Sam Dean would still be human. His species was meant to dominate in all things. Admittedly he had taken on more of a passive role with Haziel regardless of his lower rank but it was one of his greatest shames. He wondered if perhaps he was more in control if he could have stopped Haziel   “It is obvious, something you should remember.” Anael cut into his thoughts reminding him of where he was and what he was doing. He was harboring a traitor and working with a demon for Dean.

He nodded but didn’t continue. Part of him was terrified that she was right. Love was a weakness among his kind. His feelings for Dean were unusual. Balthazar was right he desired him, but desire among his kind was not unheard of. In fact desire for a human was acceptable in a submissive relationship. The relationship he had formed with Dean was unheard of. It had happened so slowly that he wasn’t sure when it came about, but he trusted Dean, but he wanted to protect Dean at the same time. The almighty said that he had plans for Dean but for the first time in his life Castiel didn’t care. He didn’t care what the real orders were. He cared about Dean.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Worried that Dean was in trouble, he pulled out the device.

There was a text, but not from Dean.

[Give us Anael by midnight, or we hurl Dean Winchester back to damnation to die.]

The words sent a chill down his spine. It was perfectly within in their legal rights to remove his property if they thought him to be disobeying an order. The fact that they even bothered to warn him meant that they did not yet doubt his loyalty.

Anael must have sensed the change in his posture. She sent him a sideline glance

“Castiel?” she queried looking at him suspiciously he cleared his expression.

“It’s nothing,” he assured. Hoping that, she wouldn’t notice his hesitation. After a moment’s pause, she turned back to where they could barely see Dean and Ruby across the street.

Dean waved them over.

Castiel was starting to question why he was here. Yes he had a history with Anael and Dean was a righteous man he wanted to help her because by his morals it was the right thing to do and yet everything in Castiel’s life told him that Dean was wrong about this. Saving Anael was going against orders. It felt wrong. Saving Sam was one thing freeing him from the enemy was negligible he was a human it didn’t really matter who he belonged to as long as he honored the temporary armistice there was no fault. Healing Dean was not strictly against his orders either.

Stiffly he followed Anael as the possible ramifications of his actions ran through his head. The thought of Dean going back to that place, to die slowly ate away at him. He deserved more than that.

Dean was grinning broadly. “You need to work on your security.” He teased with a flash of white teeth against tan skin. He was just now starting to look healthy again. Regain everything he lost in hell. Castiel could not put Dean through that again.

Dean looked at Cas he had the weirdest look on his face. Like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Cheer up Cas we can have Anna here back to full battery life in no time.” He assured. Confused as to why Cas looked suddenly so depressed.

Cas cleared his throat “Yes, of course.” He agreed.

Still confused Dean watched as everyone walked into the clinic.

The place looked like it stepped out of a sci-fi movie or an apple store. The entire facility was white and a pale blue. It was very sterile. There was an entryway and reception area past that were banks of little machines and smaller waiting areas. The machines meant very little to Dean some alien technology most likely the only thing he did recognize was the pod and not because he remembered his regeneration but because it was the only thing in sight that remotely could have been called a pod. Unlike most of the angel owned places, he had seen this one felt alien.

“Yeah, this is where I get off,” Ruby informed everyone. Raising up her hands palms up in resistance.

“I came this far mostly out of sheer curiosity, but this is too deep. I know I'm not employee of the month, but this -- I never wanted to get in the middle of this.”

Dean couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. He didn’t know the Demon chick very well, and there was still a lot of things he wanted to ask her. About Sam and everything but now wasn’t the time.

“I’ll call you.” Dean insisted. Reminding her, there were many things they still needed to discuss.

She chuckled darkly. “I’ll be waiting anxiously by the phone to see if you live through this.” She muttered sardonically.

A heavy frown creased Castiel’s brow. As he watched Anna as opened the pod.

“I’ll need a few minutes to rig the machine watch the front.” She ordered.

Dean was fine with that. He knew a thing or two about cars, but weird alien technology was just that weird and alien. There wasn’t anything he could do at this point besides shoot anyone who got in the way.

Cas followed him out the door back into the reception area. He was subdued he seemed like he was lost in thought.

Dean leaned back against the reception desk making himself comfortable. Dean was oddly relaxed. It was good to do something.

It was a moment before Cas spoke what was on his mind.

“The angels want me to turn over Anael.” He nearly whispered. He was standing next to Dean, but he wouldn’t meet his eyes he kept looking at the ground he stood stiffly near him but still an arm’s length apart“Yeah I heard you the first time.” Dean replied confused not really sure why that little factoid deserved a repeat. Cas shook his head his blue eyes shooting up to meet his. “No, they’ve given me an ultimatum.” His voice was rough from the emotion behind it. Something was truly troubling him.

“I must turn her in by midnight…” Dean glanced at the clock it was 11:23 “or they will send you back to hell.”

Dean stiffened. Thinking about hell. The smell of blood, piss and shit everywhere. The pain Alastair inflicted on him. The pain he inflicted on others. It all came back to him with the perfect clarity of something truly terrifying, but then he thought about Anna or Anael or whoever she was. It wasn’t his fight after all. She was an angel, but Dean realized the world really wasn’t as black and white as his father taught him.

Just being an angel didn’t make someone a terrible being. Anna was in the same jam he was. They were so used to taking orders it was hard to make your own decisions. Anna just wanted to get out. So much so she forgot everything about who she used to be, she deserved the second chance she got, and now they were taking that away from her too.

Dean wanted a second chance after the things he did in hell he wanted to redeem himself. He wanted redemption. Was that too much to ask for? His whole life he had blindly followed his father and his father’s beliefs never making up his own mind or trying to sort out for himself what was wrong or right and that stopped right here right now.

It didn’t matter that Anna was an angel. It didn’t matter that if he quit right now no one would know why. He would know. She needed his help. She was vulnerable and outnumbered and scared everything humanity represented. He couldn’t let her die so that he’d be fine.

“What the hell?” he answered solemnly he clenched his jaw and nodded “Go ahead and let them do it. We can’t quit now.” Cas’s eyes were wide. As if the idea frightened him.

“You're just crazy enough to go, aren't you?” Anna asked incredulously from the doorway Cas looked like he had swallowed an orange whole and was having trouble getting down Dean’s words.

Dean grinned as if he was proud of his blind defiance regardless of its openly suicidal reaction “What can I say? I don't break easy.”

Anna scowled a quick glance at Cas who wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Oh, yes... you do. You just got to know where to apply the right pressure.” She insisted but her expression softened as she crossed the room towards him.

“Dean... I just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” he wondered suspiciously

“Everything.” She replied with a soft smile stepping in front of him.

“You guys…” she paused briefly to look at Cas “… you didn't have to help me.”

Cas wasn’t looking at her he was looking towards the door as if he would rather be anywhere but there. Dean wasn’t sure what the angel was thinking.

 

“Hey, let's can the ‘thanks for trying’ speech,” Dean insisted angrily. “You know? Participation trophies suck ass.” He grossed not sure why they were both trying to talk him out of this. Anna with her words Cas with his suddenly morose attitude. What was with him?

“Don’t know.” She pondered aloud “Maybe I don't deserve to be saved.” She whispered with a sad smile.

“Don't talk like that.” He insisted knowing that her words echoed his own when Cas came to him in hell.

“Everyone deserves to be saved” she shook her head.

“I disobeyed. Lucifer disobeyed. It's our murder one, and I knew it. Maybe I got to pay.”

“Yeah, well, we've all done things we got to pay for." He muttered thinking again of hell. Of Cassie and Jo.

She switched gears. “Give us a moment.” She told Cas, and he seemed oddly grateful. Stepping out the front door.

“I got to tell you something.” She began turning back to him “You're not gonna like it.” She whispered

“Okay. What?” he wondered doubtfully

“About a week ago, I heard the demons talking... About you... What you did in Hell. Dean, about what Alastair made you do.” All the blood ran from his heart, and the air left his lungs in a great whoosh. He thought he would die as she continued. “I know. It wasn't your fault. You should forgive yourself.” She was rushing her words almost as if she knew there was a timeline to what was being said.

Dean felt his heart nearly lurch out of his chest. He couldn’t talk about that. Not yet not to anyone. Pamela mentioned it after it happened, and he pushed her away. He couldn’t talk about the things he did in hell they were literally unspeakable.

 

“Anna, I don't w-want to, uh... I don't want to... I can't talk about that.”

He could see Cas’s watching him from outside. He couldn’t hear what was going on but he still seemed so grave he wanted to tell Cas how he felt about hell but he couldn’t.

 

“I know. Anna assured “But when you can, you have people that want to help.” The words felt very distant and disassociated like she wasn’t implying that she was the one he needed to talk to “You are not alone. That's all I'm trying to say.”

During the talk, she stepped very close

When Uriel entered the room, suddenly it was pure instinct that called him to take the two steps forwards and place himself in front of her.

“Hello, Anael.” Uriel said firmly. “It's good to see you.” He added glancing over her appreciatively

“Time as a human has aged you, and yet you are as beautiful as ever.” He taunted.

Dean pulled out his gun, and Uriel just laughed.

“I would wait before I react human, let the grown ups handle this.” He ordered disparagingly then he turned to Anna completely ignoring the fact that Dean had a gun trained on him.

“Our orders aren’t to kill you if you cooperate.” Uriel informed her. “We can’t allow the demons to get their hands on you again.” Anna raised a brow. “And be locked up in a prison worse the hell for the rest of my life?” Anna asked

Uriel shrugged “or there is always the games” he reminded her there was a certain bloodthirstiness about his manner.

“Why don't you just give her back her angel juice?” Dean asked. Not appreciating being treated like a kid at the adult table. Where the hell was Cas?

“She committed a serious crime.” Uriel reiterated miffed that his attention was momentarily drawn to Dean.

“What? Thinking for herself?” he demanded fuming “This is our business,” Uriel growled “not yours.” He punctuated emphatically. “She's not even human... Not technically.” Uriel insisted disgusted.

“How did you find us anyway?” Dean wondered a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach

Cas slinked forward Dean felt betrayed and confounded not sure why Cas would betray a friend like that. Didn’t he want to help Anna? The main reason Dean was fighting for her besides that it was the right thing to do was for Cas.

“Why?” Dean breathed mixed up

“Because they gave him a choice.” Anna volunteered. “He either kills me... or they kill you. I know how their minds work.”

The truth of her words was plainly expressed by his face. Cas chose him a relative stranger over a friendship that lasted ten of his lifetimes.

“See, he has this weakness. He likes you.” Uriel taunted. Dean wasn’t sure if the taunt was directed at him or Cas “Time's up, boy. We want the girl” Uriel insisted.

“I'm sorry.” Castiel expressed the hesitation clearly on his face.

“No.” Anna muttered firmly. “You're not… Not really... Not yet. You don't know the feeling.” She insisted emphasizing the word spitefully.

She turned back towards Dean she raised a hand and rested it gently against his face. Leaning forward she whispered in his ear

 

“You did the best you could. I forgive you.” Anna kissed him. It was pleasant surprising but unmoving. The earth remained still beneath him it wasn’t a passionate kiss it wasn’t filled with love, desire or longing, just sadness. It tasted empty. She assumed they were lying. She assumed she was going to die.

 

“What was that for?” Dean wondered.

“You know... Our last night on earth... All that.” Dean’s heart felt constricted.

 

“You're stealing my best line.” He murmured commiseratingly

A sad smile was on her face as she pressed closer again.

“Except I’m not the angel you want.” Her breath was hot on his neck, but it didn’t arouse him. She pulled away, and he could only imagine the stunned look on her face. Was she saying that, after all, this? After what Cas did to her he wanted Cas? “Remember that.” She added she last part sounded like an order.

“Okay.” She insisted turning towards the other angels her arms outspread. “No more tricks. No more running. I'm ready.”

“I’m Sorry” Castiel repeated “we have a history. It's just…”

“Orders are orders.” Anna rejoined with a bitter grin. “I know. Just make it quick.”

“Don't you touch a hair on that poor girl's head” Alastair called out appearing with two fellow demons Ruby was hanging limp in one of the lackey’s arms blood covering the lower half of her shirt.

“Never send a pawn to do the job of a queen” Alastair sneered “You know you’re calling yourself a queen right?” Dean pointed out

Everyone continued as if they hadn’t heard Dean and at this point they probably had already forgotten his existence.

“How dare you come in this room... you pussing sore?” Uriel shouted both revolted and affronted.

“Name-calling. That hurt my feelings...” Alastair jeered “…You sanctimonious, fanatical prick.”

“Turn around and walk away now.” Cas ordered “We can still preserve the peace.”

“Sure. Just give us the girl. We'll make sure she gets punished good and proper.” He promised insincerely

“You know who we are and what we will do.” Cas insisted slowly. “I won't say it again. Leave now... or we lay you to waste.” Alastair laughed “Think I'll take my chances.”

“Now boys I think we can come up with a non-violent solution to this.” the voice was tiny. Like a child. It took Dean a moment to realize that it was in fact coming from a little girl. She was wearing a white gossamer dress a pink ribbon in her straw blonde hair. White lace gloves matched the lacy white socks that poked out from her white shiny mary janes. She looked like a kid dressed up for Easter Sunday.

Just as Dean was starting to wonder why a random kid was talking to everyone like that her eyes seemed to roll back into her head leaving white in its place.

Everyone was stiff even the smart ass Uriel was suddenly respectful.

“Why wasn’t I informed of the situation?’ she asked while her tone was sweet even musical there was a vein of ice under her tone, Alastair swallowed hard. This tiny little thing was his boss?

“I was handling it.” Alastair assured.

“Really?” she asked astonished “because it looks like you were making a mess of it.” She added with a deadpan expression. The silence told it all. She wasn’t happy with what he was doing then just as abruptly as she grew serious she changed.

“Oh boy, Hi Ruby!” The girl called out suddenly excited

“I haven’t seen you since you tried to kill me!” she gushed rushing towards her hugging her about the waist. She pulled away and whipped away the blood that spotted her face.

The demons seemed unsure how to react, so they simply dropped her. Ruby crumpled to the ground.

Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about this strange demonic child. She held everyone in figurative suspension waiting for her to proceed. Dean figured he might as well be the one to get the ball rolling.

“Who are you?” Dean demanded. She scowled looking at him cocking her head to the side studying him before waving her hand flinging him across the room.

He hit the wall hard and nearly lost consciousness.

“Bad human.” She insisted childishly like chiding a pet.

His ribs were cracked. He could tell by the pain that overwhelmed his system every time he tried to breath.

He watched as the child approached Anna

She pranced like she was walking across a stage.

“If we can’t share our toys.”

Once she reached Anna, she crooked her finger at her. Anna leaned down against her will. Her eyes were wide with terror.

“Nobody gets to play.” She continued violently slicing Anna’s neck. A shower of blood covered the front of her body pouring over the floor pooling at her feet.

Dean watched in horror as Anna crumpled to the floor. Blood covered the girl’s lace gloves and yet she still tried to whip her hands on the clean portions of her dress.

“Now can we all just get along?” she asked sweetly.

The silence in the room was deafening. After a moment the angels nodded. Uriel glared at the little girl before inclining his head slightly not with deference simply acceptance.

“We leave in accord. Lilith.” Cas said begrudgingly the anguish clear on his face.

She grinned wickedly and turned to leave

“We leave in accord, angel.” She called over her shoulder casually she didn’t incline her head.

Uriel moved to stand over him sneering down at him before he viciously kicked at Dean hitting him in the face finishing the job the pain started knocking him unconscious.

***

Castiel felt sick. It took every ounce of his strength to remain standing, Anna’s blood was slowly coagulating on the floor. The situation was far beyond his control.

“I'm sorry.” Ruby muttered from where she had collapsed on the floor. “For what?” Castiel asked numbly. He watched Uriel walk over to where Dean was struggling to breath on the floor. “For bringing you this mess. If I had known, I would have kept my trap shut.”

Surprised he looked at her. She was nursing a stab wound in her stomach it wouldn’t kill her but she would need regeneration.

He didn’t know why she was acting like this.

Uriel kicked Dean in the face; Castiel flinched as he watched. It hurt to see Dean in pain, but he would explain to Dean later. He did this to save him.

Alastair prodded Ruby with his foot. Eliciting a hiss of pain from her.

“A demon protecting an angel?” Alastair asked snidely. “We really must revoke your membership” he taunted.

Now that Lilith had left Alistair’s confidence returned. He sneered at her before leaving.

Uriel approached him Castiel wasn’t sure how he would react. He was nervous. So far, he had kept everything from spiraling completely out of control.

Dean wasn’t dead or back in hell simply unconscious. There was still a chance that he would be able to navigate out of this situation without anyone else being killed. His heart fell. His guilt regarding Anna would have to wait. He stood stock still waiting to see how Uriel would react. The man wasn’t his superior, but his hesitancy in turning over Anna placed him in a precarious position.

His facial expression was almost considerate

“We have a problem.” Uriel said through clenched teeth.

***

Dean woke up his vision was swirling. His ribs no longer ached they still felt stiff, but the pain was almost entirely gone. He looked around trying to get his bearings. He was in a cell. There was a small cot that he was laying upon there were only four paces from that to the door. He knew two things about his surroundings. One it was short term holding because there wasn’t a toilet or sink. Second mercifully he was not back in hell. He knew the scent and searing heat deep in hell this wasn’t it. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he remembered what brought him here. Cas betrayed his friend because of him. Dean was alive again at the expensive of someone else.

There must have been a camera in the cell watching him because only moments after he regained consciousness he heard keys in the door as two burly men entered the room. One held a metallic silver shock collar the other held a set of leather cuffs. Dean knew where this was going. His ribs might have been cracked when he lost consciousness, but whatever happened between then and now they weren’t now.

Like an animal backed into a corner, he raged at them. Whenever they threw him into this cage, they hadn’t bothered to bind him, big mistake on their part.

Dean threw his elbow out striking the first man in the jaw knocking him back into the second. The entry was a chokepoint that Dean attempted to use to his advantage. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to get out but he could keep them out. He rushed them trying to shove them out of the doorway. He managed to knock them off their feet. He stood outside the tiny cell. At that moment, instinct kicked in. If he had been thinking, he might have had better luck navigating the new surroundings. He would have been more cautious, but his adrenaline kept him moving.

The hallway was narrow and painted a dusty grey. He shot down it at a full sprint his only thought was getting out of here. He would figure the rest out once he escaped. The facility was a labyrinth. A maze of corridors and twisting hallways he could hear the men hot on his heels. His breathing was starting to make his chest burn. Maybe his ribs weren’t as healed as he thought.

The pounding of his boots on the tile echoed in the hallways. He could hear the heavy beat of at least two people behind him.

He turned the corner and skidded to a halt. A woman stood before him. Her black hair was slicked back away from her face and tied back into a braid that trailed over her shoulder. Her body was encased in what looked like black form fitting leather armor. It began with her heavy boots that ended mid-calf. The leather pants traveled up her legs and were held on by crisscrossed leather ties that traveled up the sides of her entire body melding with the leather top. The leather sleeves reached all the way down A black leather cincher was wrapped around her waist the silver buckles sparkling even in the muted light of the hallway. He knew from personal experience that the collar of the leather top went all the way up to the hollow of her neck, but the neckline was hidden behind a decorative leather gorget. She frowned at him her head cocked to the side studying him in the way that was both familiar and intimate “Tessa?” Dean whispered his breath coming in gasps as he panted.

“Dean” she acknowledged before pulling the spiked stun baton from the holster on her hip. She attempted to club him over the head. He raised his arm just an instant before the raised pyramids surrounding the baton connected with his head hitting his arm instead causing pain to shoot through him. He tried to react swinging towards where her head had been, but she ducked beneath him.

She shouted from her crouched position as she shoved her shoulder into his stomach knocking the wind out of him. Before shoving the stun end of the stun baton into his ribs. Over 20,000 volts coursed into his body. His entire body stiffened up as his muscles contracted it felt like the communication between his brain and muscles was scrambled it didn’t render him unconscious but it knocked him to the floor, unable to move.

She stood over him, she removed the metal shock collar from its loop at her back and snapped it around his neck.

“We need to talk.” She insisted.

His vision shifted in an out as he struggled to remain conscious he was being dragged. He was vaguely aware that his feet were not supporting him. The grey tile passed beneath his vision. Two pairs of arms held him up, and he could see Tessa walking in front of him. God he hadn’t seen her in years. Not since he was sixteen. Not since he was last a slave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to know what you think let me know.


	18. 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to see your comments and know what you think

He must have blacked out briefly because he woke up in an interrogation room. He was not sure how much time had passed. His was having difficulty fighting the swirling feeling in his head felt like he’d taken seven shots.

“Sodium thiopental,” a voice called out “… also known as Sodium Pentothal” he couldn’t make out her face but he could knew the voice.

He was strapped to a metal chair. Leather cuffs held him at the wrists and ankles. A bright light shone in his face so that he could only see her backlit with the light bathed in darkness as she reclined on the desk.

“Pentothal weaken the resolve of the subject and make them more compliant to pressure.” She continued clinically.

“Barbiturates decrease higher cortical brain functioning. Some psychiatrists hypothesize that lying is more complex than telling the truth, suppression of the higher cortical functions may lead to the uncovering of the truth.”

She was sitting on the desk with her leg arched seductively she was playing with a long rod of some kind, but his brain was having trouble distinguishing between the light and the shadow.

“The drug tends to make subjects loquacious and cooperative with interrogators; however, the reliability of confessions made under thiopental is questionable. She carefully lowered herself to the ground and walked towards him an extra sway in her hips her boots tapping as she walked the only sound in the room.

“So normally I prefer my questioning without it but it in your case there were doubts you would surrender under torture alone.” She lowered herself to eye level. He stared into her eyes. There was a question there she was searching his face like she could see into his soul. She laid her hand on his chin holding it to control better his gaze.

“Is that true Dean? “She wondered probingly

He pulled away as best he could. The motion only caused his vision to swirl once more and yet she smiled like she was proud of him.

“Dean, Dean Dean, you never could stay out of trouble could you?”

It took him a moment to focus on the intense light he could just barely make out her facial features. She was watching him it was intense and clinical, but she always had a way of reading him.

“What am I doing here Tessa?” he asked her. He was beginning to question his perception of time.

As he expected, she didn’t answer his question she simply stepped forward blocking out more of the light but it made it easier for him to see her face. She was impassive her expression cool observant simply watching him.

“What, is this like a turn-on for you?” he queried “Drugging me, toying with me?” he demanded rattling the cuffs on the chair.

“You didn't give me much choice.” She responded coolly. He could never gauge her emotions. It was part of what always baffled and confused him about her. “You flipped out.” She continued trailing her fingers over the side of his face.

“Kinda hurts a girl's feelings.” She persisted with an exaggerated pout. “This was the only way I could get you to talk to me.”

“Okay, fine. We're talking.” He insisted pulling away with a jerk of his head. The best his bound position would allow “What the hell do you want to talk about?”

He could smell the scent of her perfume and leather. It took him back years.

She was so close standing into between his spread legs her hands on his knees. He could make out the deep red of her lipstick. His vision was churning she was the only thing in his vision.

She smiled it was almost fond. Before she stepped away. She reached the table he hadn’t recognized the weapon sitting there when he first saw her as the Taser.

“Tell me about Castiel.” She ordered.

Dean blinked. He didn’t know what he was doing here, but an interrogation about Cas wasn’t what he thought Tessa had in mind. Revenge sure. Hanging him by his balls till he begged for mercy at worst but Tessa wasn’t a torturer she was a Dominatrix. She wasn’t a sadist she didn’t get off on pain, just control.

“Nice guy, a little confused on personal space,” Dean muttered flippantly

“That's funny. You're very cute.” She purred. Watching him expectantly.

Dean didn’t reply. What was this? Where was Cas? He was having trouble focusing his mouth felt surprisingly dry.

“Tell me about Castiel.” She coaxed again. Dean found himself drifting back and forth he pictured Cas’s face. His firm jaw covered in stubble. His intense blue eyes soft palatable lips his fierce expression. His betrayal. He shook his head trying to clear it.

“He is intense,” The words tumbled from him mouth against his will. She nodded moving closer.

“Tell me more.” She urged. The thoughts popped into his head unfiltered.

He is smart, kind, loyal, sexy

“You mentioned kind.” She pointed out Dean wasn’t sure what he had said out loud and what he kept to himself. He was having trouble differentiating between what he was saying out loud and what was in his thoughts.

“How would you classify the relationship between you and Castiel?” she probed

Dean shot her a eat shit look trying to master his facial expression.

“Eat me.” He said through clenched teeth.

She backhanded him across the face her leather glove adding an extra bite to the impact, but it wasn’t truly painful.

Dean knew from personal experience she could hit a lot harder than that. What the fuck was going on.

“Has Castiel spoken to you about any opposition to the empire?” she asked. “Any doubts about his place in it?” his mind instantly went back to Halloween.

I’m not … a hammer as you say. I have questions; I have doubts. His words echoed in his head.

A strange fear was suddenly growing in the pit of his stomach. This wasn’t about him. Tessa wasn’t here because of him.

“Where is Cas?” he asked looking around the room noticing Cas was not beside him.

She scrutinized him like a cat “Cas?” she wondered softly.

Dean felt strangely like he had given up too much. What was this about? He tried to think about everything Anna had said before they killed her.

We have to take it on faith... Which we're killed if we don't have.

She said that Cas turned her in for him. Now the angels were questioning him about Cas. Uriel said that Cas had a weakness that he liked him.

Suddenly he started to realize what this was. It was an inquest they were trying to see if Cas was a traitor. The fact that it was Tessa who was here was purely coincidence. This wasn’t about his past with her.

Cas’s life depended on what Dean said. “Castiel is loyal,” Dean answered honestly. He didn’t require the help of the drug. He knew it the moment he met the angel. While he was helping Dean, he wasn’t disloyal. The deal they had Dean knew it wasn’t really breaking angel law, bending maybe, but Cas wasn’t like Anna. He would never change.

 

“And I should take your word for it? A human rebel?” Dean frowned and shrugged “You asked me.” Dean pointed out confused she smiled.

“I'll tell you, life is funny.” She asserted running the end of the stun baton across his chest tracing his collarbone over his shirt.

“What do you mean?” he wondered licking his lips feigning ignorance watching the path the baton made anticipating the shock that he was sure would arrive any moment.

You and me, together again. After all this time. Talking about you servicing another angel” She whispered the last bit where only he could hear running her hand over his chin. Her discretion could only mean one thing someone else was listening to this.

“Are you…” Dean began but swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “…Are you making a move on me? He taunted.

Tessa shook her head with a laugh at his boldness.

 

“You're the one that got away, Dean.” She murmured clenching her hand over his to the point that her nails dug in like little pinpricks.

“You'd be surprised how little that happens to me.” There was an undercurrent of both humiliation and begrudging respect.

Dean could only imagine that it was true. In the six months, they knew each other she had him in the palm of her hand. Admittedly he’d been a horny easily manipulated sixteen-year-old, but she had molded him into a Bliora. A part of him was still afraid that she had that power over him. It had been an exceedingly long time he wasn’t the same man that he’d then there. He’d been just a boy really… He wasn’t the same boy Tessa knew back then he was afraid of dying. He let the comforts she offered him blind him to what life as a slave was like. He had his faults, yeah he liked to live hard, he drank too much and if given the opportunity he probably fucked too much, but he wasn’t a coward not anymore. No one else knew that he had been a Bilora she was keeping that information to herself he wasn’t sure why.

“What am I doing here?” He asked again ignoring the strange emotions swirling in his gut. He chalked it up to the drugs, but he knew that he didn’t want to betray Cas.

“What was Castiel’s relationship to Anna Milton?” Tessa asked probingly “Why don’t you ask him? He betrayed her.” He insisted.

She nodded. “You would see it as a betrayal wouldn’t you.” She murmured softly.

He frowned at her confused. “He got her killed.” He maintained

She shook her head softly “You of all people should realize there are things much worse than death.”

***

Castiel was prepared to face any punishment his superiors saw fit to give him except this. Castiel was a prisoner, but they had the courtesy to leave him unbound. His loyalty was in question, and rather then immediately imprison him they launched a minor inquest. The situation was unsettling.

Under normal circumstances, any question to his loyalty he would have been thrown into prison and his possessions seized until he was proved innocent including Dean except things were different.

Instead, they were questioning Dean on his loyalty. Castiel could not understand. He was a human; the council would never take the word of a human. Why were they bothering questioning Dean?

He could tell Dean was drugged by the expression on his face and the way he hesitated as he spoke.

Uriel was a stiff figure standing behind him his back facing the screen; he wasn’t listening to the interrogation. He was one the phone talking to the remainder of the council.

Castiel tried to ignore Uriel to focus instead on Dean. The woman before him performing the interrogation was named Tessa but Castiel only had a passing familiarity with her. It seemed Dean had a closer relationship with her than he did. He recognized her from a time in his past; Castiel was not sure of their relationship.

Dean’s head lulled as he was succumbing to the drugs. Castiel felt his heart sink at the thought of Dean suffering because of him, but his loyalty was in question not only because of Anna but now because of Dean as well. Uriel was not the only one noticing how Castiel favored Dean. They were beginning to fear that he was growing too close to him, that he forgot his place.

If Dean said the wrong thing, it would mean his life, and once Castiel was dead there would be no one left to protect Dean.

“Tell me about Castiel.” Tessa coaxed again. Castiel watched in anticipation. He was less worried about his life than he was about Dean’s he was a citizen there was not enough evidence to prove that Castiel had been disloyal, but the life of a slave meant nothing. The council might decide that losing his property a suitable punishment.

“He is intense,” Dean blurted. He shook his head trying to clear it. Tessa nodded pleased moving closer.

“Tell me more.” She urged. Castiel held his breath as Dean answered. “He is…kind…sexy…”

A surge of surprised pulled on him, and he felt the pit of his stomach fall.

Objectively he knew that Dean found him appealing. He had implied as much, but hearing it was strange.

“I see.” Uriel murmured into the phone. His gave tone pulled Castiel away from the screen.

Uriel pressed a button that caused a buzzing sound in the interrogation room. He saw Tessa’s head jerk up in response.

Uriel was calling an end to the inquest. Castiel wasn’t sure what was happening. It was deviating from the natural order.

“We have larger concerns,” Uriel replied to Castiel’s questioning look.

When Castiel opened his mouth to question him, Uriel scowled.

“You and your pet…” he spat the word with obvious distaste “May go… for now.”

“Why what is going on?” Castiel asked besides himself. If his ire was not related to him aiding Anael. What was the cause?

Uriel was angry. He spun on him. “Be grateful that we don’t burn your wings and put your dog down.” He growled.

Castiel was surprised at the venom in Uriel’s voice. He knew he had a deep-seated hatred of humans, but Castiel just assumed that he thought himself superior. There seemed to be more than his simple distaste.

“While you were soiling yourself with your mud monkey…”

“You shouldn't call them that.” Castiel cut in.

“Oh, that's what they are... savages. Just plumbing on two legs. Eating, drinking, shitting, fornicating themselves into oblivion.”

Castiel couldn’t reply surprised by Uriel’s crudeness. He was shaking his head ruefully

“Seven angels have been murdered,” he informed him heavily.

Castiel’s heart skipped a beat. Since the cease-fire, there had been no deaths reported.

“All of them from our garrison.” He continued leadingly looking into his eyes. “The last one was killed tonight.” He knew that he meant Anna. “You and your mud monkey are obviously not part of the coup after all.”

Of course, it made sense now. They feared he was part of a larger scheme that was the only reason he was not currently deep in a hellish prison. They thought he had allied himself with the humans? Somehow he was exonerated. Someone was killing the angels from their Garrison for what purpose he did not know, but Anna’s sudden reappearance was likely not as much of a coincidence as he first thought. Ruby she handed him Anna on a silver platter the demons were active again. The question was if Ruby was a pawn or a knight. Did she know who was killing the angels?

A strange fear suddenly gripped him. He said seven in all.

“Who else has been murdered?” Castiel asked fearfully.

***

Dean was fucking tired of the god damned angel bullshit. He was tired. So damn tired of being dragged into politics and other bullshit because of his connections with the angels. He almost missed the days when the most interesting thing that happened to him was the guards came to beat him. At least then he was able to get a few licks in himself.

Right now, it felt like he was just screwed. He missed his resistance days sometimes. When things were simple. He knew it was wrong. That life was black and white like he believed back then, but it was hard.

Seeing Tessa again reminded him even more of the most shameful part of his life. It wasn’t that different now.

The drugs were out of his system, but it still chaffed at him. He wasn’t sure what he had said aloud what he had admitted to and what secrets he kept to himself.

He lusted after Cas, but he cared about him more as a friend but once again his life became even more confusing. He tried to help Anna and nothing good came from it. It felt like every time he got anything sorted out the angels stepped in and fucked it up.

Anna said she wasn’t the angel he wanted, and he knew it was true. Not that he was going to do anything about it.

The buzzer had put an end to his questioning Tessa had undone his shackles but rather than leave him she watched as he paced the tiny cell hoping that the activity would work the drug out of his system.

It was something he never got used to even in his youth as a Bilora, he didn’t like being watched. He knew she saw something in his that he tried hard to bury. She was right he knew there were a great many things worse than death, he’d lived through some of it.

Back in hell with Alastair he craved death as a release from misery, and sometimes he wished he had taken the offer Tessa made to him so many years ago. Become a slave or die. If he died, then it would have been with his honor intact. The years had slowly dragged every bit of it out him.

He lost a little more every day. He was a soldier he should have died as one; instead he got to live so that Alastair ripped his guts out day after day until he lost who he was. He lost what side he was on.

Uriel entered the room.

“You are needed.” He announced flatly. Something about the whole situation rubbed him the wrong way.

 

“Needed? After all that shit with Anna? You can blow me junkless.”

 

“Now, you mind your tone with me.” He growled.

“No, you mind your damn tone” Dean shouted. It didn’t matter his anger was radiating through the room. What the hell everyone had to die someday. He would rather give this dickless wonder a piece of his mind than die shrinking and sniveling to an angel.

“I am tired of your damned angel business. He began bitterly. There was more to this than just Cas he knew it he felt it in his bones. They wanted something from him fine he wanted to know why. Why they were treating him like a mushroom, he was tired of being kept in the dark and fed shit.

“I am sick and tired of jumping through your hoops. Maybe you can stop pushing me around like chess pieces for five freaking minutes and tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“We raised you out of hell for our purposes,” Uriel growled crossing the room. Castiel didn’t react to junkless words, but Dean knew he caught him in another lie. He hadn’t noticed that he entered the room until this moment his wrath focused on Uriel.

Uriel said we. It seems like every time he looked a little closer Cas’s generosity at pulling him from the pit looked less and less generous

“Yeah, what were those again?” Dean demanded snidely “What exactly did you want from me? He demanded throwing his hands out in question. Trying to catch Cas’s eyes. This question was as much directed to him as it was the other angel.

He could see Tessa watching him with glittering eyes.

“Start with gratitude.” Uriel began stepping close enough that he forced Dean to look up.

Dean would have sold his soul in that instance to punch the smug bastard in the face and have it hurt him.

“Dean, we know this is difficult to understand.”

Cas said soothingly.

“And We…” Uriel emphasized throwing Cas a significant look.

 

“…don't care. Now, seven angels have been murdered, all of them from our garrison. ”

 

“Demons? Humans?” Dean wondered jumping to the most logical conclusions.

“We don't know.” Cas responded quietly. He was standing away from him avoiding his eye contact. Dean wanted to know if he was ok. He wanted to know if his friend betrayed him the same he had Anna. Cas knew where a large portion of the remaining resistance fighters was camped out. If the angels took out Bobby, the fight was done for at least for a while.

 

“We can handle them both, thank you very much.” Uriel groused peevishly

 

“Once we find whoever it is,” Cas added hastily

 

“So you need my help hunting?” Dean wondered. Knowing this could not have been the main objective. There were plenty of hunters out there they didn’t need him.

 

“Not quite. We have Alastair.”

 

“Great. He should be able to name your trigger man.” Dean continued not sure

 

“But he won't talk,” Cas commented his face was hard he wasn’t meeting his eyes it seemed like as soon as he got anything from him things changed.

“Alastair’s will is very strong. We've arrived at an impasse.” He continued. A sinking feeling overcame him.

 

“Yeah, well, trust me he's like a black belt in torture. I mean, you guys are out of your league.”

 

“That's why we've come to his student. You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we've got.”

 

Dean looked down feeling the blood drain from his face. How did they know? He had never told anyone, but Anna had known as well.

 

“Dean, you are our best hope.” Cas pleaded. Dean’s eyes shot up to his. Cas knew what he had done? Was that why he couldn’t look him in the eye?

 

“No.” Dean immediately replied.

“No way. You can't ask me to do this, Cas…Not this.” He was ashamed the way his voice quavered.

 

Uriel walked up to Dean. “Who said anything about asking?”

Uriel snapped his fingers and Tessa slowly slid off the table and walked seductively towards him.

“Dean you know there is an easy way and a hard way in this.”

He smirked slightly “and I think you know which way I’m leaning.”

The shock hurt as much as he remembered as the pain dropped him halfway to his knees. He refused to fall.

Tessa shocked him again the fight against the shock took all his strength leaving him helpless when she stepped forward and clipped the end of the leash to him.

His inability to resist galled him but he fought back as best he could as she practically dragged him to another holding room. She twisted his arm behind him forcing him to look through the window into the much larger interrogation room. Inside he saw a man chained to the wall.

“He’s bound completely,” Cas assured grimly.

Dean turned back to Cas horrified. “I thought you said it was Alastair?” he demanded enraged.

“It is,” Uriel replied. Dean shook Tessa away and glanced back at the man inside the room.

He was still wearing the ridiculous leather pants from the last time he saw him, but they were already ragged, and blood oozed from holes in them. His tattered black shirt also was covered with blood he was missing the jacket, but it was still him. His dark brown hair hung in his face his glanced up letting the light hit him, and Dean was sure. It was Sam.

Cas must have sensed the question because he answered before he had a moment to voice it.

“He is a clone,” Dean scowled “but it’s still Sam in there.” He complained not sure with the wing heads weren’t getting it. There was no way he would torture anyone but even less chance he would torture his brother.

“Not anymore,” Uriel told him. “The demon’s used this clone of Sam via the insertion of Alastair’s personality” “What?” Dean demanded confused, but at the same time it gave him hope.

“It might be Sam’s body, but its Alastair who’s home,” Uriel informed him.

If it were Alastair back at the church, then things would be different. It might have been another Demon who attacked Jo as well. That might mean Sam really was alive somewhere and not a monster.

“How can you know?” Dean asked.

“It’s DNA,” Cas confirmed. “There are slight genetic mistakes; he is a copy of a copy. He is flawed, his genetic makeup isn’t the same as Sam's.”

“And as for the personality, who else could withstand this amount of torture?” Uriel queried.

Speculation. That wasn’t enough for his piece of mind.

“Forget it I’m not torturing my brother.”

“Angels are dying, boy.” Uriel insisted.

 

“Everybody's dying these days.” He murmured bitterly

“And hey, I get it. You're all-powerful. You can make me do whatever you want. But you can't make me do this.” He insisted. Eyeing Tessa. She held the remote control to the shock collar around his neck.

She could zap him all day, but it wouldn’t matter. He could not do this. He was barely holding on to the last dregs of his humanity by the skin of his teeth. If he did this. He could not be the man he was. Not anymore. He would be a monster.

He glanced at Cas hoping that he could understand. Cas saw him Cas pulled him out of hell he knew what it was like for him. Cas saw him nearly kill his liver every day with enough booze to drown a horse just to keep the thoughts at bay, and that was a stranger. Even if this was Alastair, it looked like Sammy. He knew what this would do to him. Should know. What doing this would mean to him. He couldn’t ask him to do this, and yet he was asking him.

Cas was his friend if at all tentative the friendship was. Cas finally met his eyes

 

“This is too much to ask, I know.” He stressed “But we have to ask it.” He persisted his blue eyes earnestly met his own begging him to listen.

 

Dean stared at him for a moment, before turning back to Uriel.

 

“I want to talk to Cas alone.” He insisted “No cameras nothing.”

Castiel wasn’t sure what that defeated look on Dean’s face meant but he knew that he wished it was gone.

Castiel was in a deep pit of pain but watching the light go out of Dean’s eyes only made his world darker.

 

“I think I'll go seek revelation. We might have some further orders.” Uriel voiced as a pretext. Agreeing to the deal.

 

Once they were alone Dean walked up to him. “What's going on, Cas?” He demanded confusedly. “Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?”

 

Castiel answered honestly letting his failure be plainly evident. “My superiors have begun to question my sympathies.”

 

“Your sympathies?” Dean was watching him wanting more from him that he could give.

Castiel had wanted to be Dean’s friend back when he thought that they could be temporary allies. When he believed that might be allowed a friend, but that was before. Now he had been disabused of that notion.

 

“I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment.” He tried to answer as flatly and plainly as possible.

 

Castiel watched Dean nodded blankly as he pulled away from him. It hurt. More than Castiel thought it would.

“Well, tell Uriel, or whoever...you do not want me doing this, trust me.” He asserted

 

“Want it, no…” Castiel answered honestly dreading his part in this. “But I have been told we need it.”

 

“You ask me to open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out.” He swore. He swallowed hard his face showed the pain swirling beneath the surface. Castiel’s heart ached for him.

Castiel knew what Dean was saying, and it nearly broke his resolve. He would do this for him but if he did everything he liked about Dean would die in that room.

 

 

Dean closed his eyes.

“But you will won’t you.” He stated falsely calm

“I have no choice,” Castiel answered besides himself. The evident torment swirling through Dean’s inner turmoil showed in his tense stance and intense expression.

“You have a choice Cas there is always a choice.” He answered resolutely nodding to himself.

He glanced over at him seeking his gaze. “And you’ve made yours.”

“But I don’t know if you have all the facts.” Dean insisted walking closer to him.

Castiel felt a strange yearning in the pit of his stomach.

“I am aware of the situation Dean I know this is not easy.”

“No! Not easy would be torturing Alastair in his body. This… is fucking impossible, but for you I will do it.” His answer surprised him. For him? Castiel didn’t want this didn’t want Dean to lose himself in the darkness.

He saw what it cost him the first time what him following protocol cost, Dean. Even though, Dean had refused to talk about hell Castiel hadn’t been as blind as Dean thought. He knew the suffering he hid. The nights he woke in cold sweats screaming over the blood, pain, and agony.

He watched Dean drink alcohol just so the pain would quiet enough to sleep even as he suffered wracking bouts of nausea and vomiting as his body fought against his efforts to poison it.

There were nights when Dean hadn’t even left the garage. Just passed out where he lay. When Castiel found him and returned him to his room. Unconscious he shed the tears, his pride wouldn’t allow him to do by day.

To say Castiel wanted this was a lie, but it had to be done. His people had tried for days to crack this version of Alistair. He had been captured immediately after his encounter with Dean, but he had not budged. Dean was their only hope.

“But you have to know what you will cost me. What you cost yourself.” Dean continued bring Castiel’s thoughts once more to him.

“What I’m costing myself?” he echoed perplexed.

Dean closed the distance between them seemingly unconscious of his actions. They were only a few inches apart. The personal space that Dean always insisted on maintaining was shattered.

“Let’s not play games Cas.” He instructed. His green eyes snapped with something beseeching him to understand. He was staring at him. It made him self-conscious, but he was unable to look away once their eyes had met.

“I want you.” The words broke something inside him. He felt the wall of his resistance come apart. He pushed back the idea of being with Dean. He knew that it was never possible Dean was a human. His heart raced and need shot through him more swiftly and fiercely that he ever thought possible.

“I think you want me back.” He continued. His eyes were searching his face. Liking what he saw, he continued.

“If I go through with this…” he alluded. Jerking his head towards the door where Sam/Alastair lay waiting.

“This will never happen.” He indicated the scant amount of space between them.

Castiel swallowed thickly. Suddenly having trouble breathing. His blood was roaring in his ears making it almost impossible for him to focus. Objectively he knew what Dean was implying but he still found the situation impossible. Dean was this unattainable entity. Someone to be admired and desired but never captured. He could never be with Dean or so he thought and yet here it was.

The line was drawn in the sand. There was still no guarantee, but the offer was there.

His eyes were so green, so sincere, and vulnerable. His mouth was surprisingly lush in comparison to his strong jawline. The sprinkling of freckles across his nose was endearing.

Castiel’s lips felt dry, and he absently moistened them with his tongue. Dean’s eyes were drawn to his mouth his expression intense, almost threatening. From that second on the kiss felt inevitable everything slowed to the space between heartbeats gravity existed only to bring them together.

In the first moment, Castiel thought maybe Dean was angry. Before he could consider it further, Dean laid his hand along Castiel’s face his fingertips sliding into his hair and pulled him close covering his mouth with his own in a hungry kiss. He responded immediately without thought, surprising himself. Giving in was like drowning. Wave after wave of desire crashed over him as their lips moved against each other dulling his higher reasoning with each lulling crest leaving him only a body awash with sensation. Dean’s mouth was so warm, the caress of his lips softer than he ever imagined.

Dean pulled away his hand still on his face resting his forehead against his. Their breath mingling as they gasped together. Castiel felt like part of him left with Dean leaving him breathless and achy. Dean was studying him searching for something Castiel didn’t think he could give him, but rather than wait for an answer Dean pulled him in close again for a lingering kiss. He tentatively teased his lips with his tongue; Castiel reacted opening his mouth with a low shuddering moan Dean’s fist clenched in his hair in response.

The shock of how good how right it felt to be in his arms permeated his being as Dean ran his free hand down his back lightning hot arousal shot through him. He didn’t want this to end. The errant thought shocked him. Naturally it had to end. Dean would go into the next room and be forced by him to torture someone who looked like his brother and Dean would never forgive him. He wallowed in the impermanence of the kiss.

Dean wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore. Perhaps it was about the memory. If he kissed Cas now, then there would always be this moment when he could remember what it was like to be human. If Cas felt the same then this moment would be the first of thousands, and if not...

He pulled away searching Cas’s face his mouth was kiss swollen his eyes misty and dazed. Part of Dean took thrill in that. For a grown man, Cas was unused to kissing, and it was a pleasant thought to think he claimed one of Cas’s rare kisses.

“What’s it gonna be?” he asked breathlessly. Afraid how much of his fate he was placing in the other man’s hands. He trusted Cas. It was up to him. If Cas wanted him, Dean was more than willing to oblige but he could not go through with this. If Cas were only loyal to the Angels, he could never be loyal to him the way he needed, and any hope of a future together was shattered. He would go into that room and come out a different man with less to offer Castiel.

Cas took several shaky steps away from him the tattered look on his face gave him his answer long before Cas was able to choke out the words.

“For what it's worth,” he began his voice thick and harsh.

“I would give anything not to have you do this.” Castiel declared

Dean laughed bitterly closing his eyes pushing the kiss from his mind he should have known this was the only outcome.

“Not anything.” He countered wretchedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of a death in the family I will likely be slow in posting the next few chapters but this fic is not abandoned sorry.


	19. 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really hard time writing this chapter so sorry if it sucks.

Utter emotional coldness engulfed him. Dean felt it settle over him like a protective mantle. He allowed the icy mask of apathy to be his only expression. He had finally done it; he let Cas know he wanted more and Cas rejected him. Now he was going to torture someone who looked like his brother. He didn’t want to feel. He was letting go of a tiny part of his humanity. His hand tremored as he reached for the door.

He took a moment he could feel Cas behind him waiting, but he didn’t want to show him his weakness. He took a deep breath and clenched his fist in effort to control his shaking. Slowly he opened the door and wheeled in his cart of torture devices. Part of him was still focused on the ineffable man in the other room. Except Cas made his decision. He and Castiel worked together; they had a shared agenda. It was all they could share. He steeled himself against his emotions. His feelings about Cas didn’t matter at this moment.

The task at hand would take all the emotional control he could muster. Sam… no Alastair was spread out before him waiting for his knife. It made his stomach churn. He felt empty, and yet filled with purpose. The purpose was not his own. He felt nothing only a sense of duty. There were things he needed to do. Dean knew that his feelings in this didn’t matter. He even wondered if he still had them. He felt nothing just the pull of his obligation.

“Hello, Dean.” Sam began. He didn’t act like a man who had been tortured for days. He was nearly giddy at the sight of him.

He was grinning broadly. It was disconcerting to see Sam’s smile and yet hear Alastair in his words and tone. He was laughing at him.

“I'm sorry.” He insisted stifling a laugh “This is a very serious, very emotional situation for you.” Fake Sam taunted with an overly dramatic grin. “I shouldn't laugh, it's just that—I mean, are they serious?” he raised a brow at him incredulously “They sent you to torture me?”

Dean clenched his fist. This wasn’t Sam,this was the man that tortured him in hell. His brother was still out there somewhere.

“Who is killing the angels?” Dean, he demanded tautly.

Alastair cocked his head slightly to the side in question. Sam’s soft brown eyes watched him curiously.

“You think I'll see all your scary toys and spill my guts?” he wondered. His tone was all Alastair, but the expression on his face was Sam’s He had seen in thousands of times. He didn’t believe he could do it.

 

“Oh, you'll spill your guts, one way or another.” He assured brandishing his knife. It was a large slightly jagged hunting knife with a hooked tip.

“I just didn't wanna ruin my shoes” the vague threat fell short of the menace he intended

 

Sam laughed loud and long “Or what? You'll work me over?” He demanded skeptically Dean didn’t flinch at Sam’s disbelief.

“But then, maybe you don't want to. Maybe you’re, scared to.” He was smiling Sams toothy grin eyeing him.

“Something happened to you after you left hell. You’re not the killer you used to be. I can see it in your eyes. You’re not strong enough.”

Dean didn’t argue. He knew in his heart it was the truth. He wasn’t strong enough to make it out of this situation intact. He would do it yes. He would rip Sam apart, but it would destroy him in the process.

“I'm here, aren't I?”

***

The silence was painful, it left him acutely aware of what might be happening in the next room.

So far, he had not heard tormented screams just the echoing drip of water in the distance, and the wind blowing through the abandoned basement level of the building. He was more than conflicted about his decision. His heart ached for what might have been and yet the pain he felt at the loss of his friend kept him firm in his resolve.

Uriel informed him of Balthazar’s death only moments before he requested Dean’s services as an interrogator. He had been so wracked with grief that he had not immediately registered what he asked of Dean.

His friend was dead. Murdered by a rogue demon bent on destroying the alliance, Dean was his only hope of revenge, and yet after that kiss he could only think of what he had given up.

Why are you letting Dean do this?

The thought echoed in his head unbearably loud.

He was torn in two. He wanted to crash into the room and stop Dean from killing himself, but he knew what his duty to the angelic order required. Absolute compliance. Uriel had told him that the Oiad himself had requested that Dean interrogate their enemies. Who was he to deny the will of their god?

There was more to the story than Uriel was telling him. He could feel it in his bones. This couldn’t be the purpose the Oiad originally wanted Dean for, could it? The Oaid was supreme, all powerful, and infallible, but he wasn’t omniscient.

Uriel also told him the truth about Sam Winchester. The plan Lilith had for him.

He found himself pacing. He flinched as he heard the first gut-wrenching scream.

***

Dean shuddered as Sam screamed beneath his knife writhing in pain. The cut was shallow compared to the wounds he intended to inflict, but the slash on his side was dripping blood. It made him sick. Normally Alastair wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction of showing his pain, but the blood-curdling scream that came from him wasn’t in his voice but Sam’s.

Dean turned his back on him so he wouldn’t see the hesitation and the fear. This was his worst nightmare. Being forced to witness his brother’s pain, and Alistair knew that. They had gotten to know each other as much as he knew any other being when he was in hell.

The pain Alistair put him through made him reveal his most deep-seated fears and desires. Alistair was enjoying this. The discomfort he was putting him through now was nothing compared to the enjoyment he got out of watching his victims squirm. Even when he was the one holding the knife, Alistair still held all the power.Dean squared his shoulders locking away all his emotions. This wasn’t Sam no matter how much it looked and sounded like him. He recognized Alistair’s taint inside of him.

“Tell me who's killing the angels,” Dean growled his expression fierce.

“I want a name,” he ordered. Sam/Alistair grinned

“Tell me, Dean, how is life outside of Hell?” he asked ignoring his question.

“I can only assume by your pained expression as you cut into me that you haven’t found your brother yet.” He taunted.

Dean rotated his neck and shoulders trying to loosen the tightness in them. Alistair had no power over him.

Dean turned back to the table. He hefted a ball peen hammer and slammed the weapon into the other man’s knee the sickening pop-crackle and gurgling scream that followed gave him no satisfaction.

***

Castiel paced. He was conflicted everything in his life was shattered. Balthazar was dead, he was forcing Dean into a situation that would change him forever and all because of his loyalty for a god he had never seen. Anna had questioned the Oaid and she had seemed happy for it. She fell. He was punishing Dean because he was too weak to save him. He was losing him. For the first time in his life, he was considering true disobedience. It was confusing, terrifying, and directionless. Sam Winchester was on a path to end them all, and yet he could not think of the man through that lens. He could only picture Dean’s brother.

He heard movement behind him. He spun to see Tessa. She was navigating the dark and strange environment with an almost supernatural ease.

“You shouldn't be here” he called out to her. Uriel had ordered her to leave. Her loyalties were questionable. She was a reaper. Her mother was an angel her father a demon. She could not be trusted, but the council depended on her interrogations.

“Why are you letting Dean do this?” she asked echoing his thoughts.

“He's doing God's work.” Castiel maintained there was a strange familiarity between them that oddly made Castiel jealous. She knew Dean in ways he didn’t, he wasn’t sure how. Dean was not a man who changed his mind easily.

“Torturing?” She demanded

“That's God's work?” She asked suspiciously. Her words confused him. Yes, that was god’s work. The empire was brutal, and there were times when brutality and violence were the only answers but did he truly believe that?

His loyalty to the Angelic order had taken away everything he had ever cared about. Long ago, he lost Haziel to the state. His compliance had lost him, Dean. Balthazar was a casualty of a centuries-old war that he never even believed in. Castiel wasn’t sure what to believe. He felt so lost.

“Stop him, Castiel, please. Before you ruin the one real weapon, you have” She insisted He wasn’t sure of her motivations. He wasn’t sure he could trust her.

“Who are we to question the will of God?” he wondered floundering.

 

“Unless this isn't his will.” Tessa pointed out.

 

“Then where do the orders come from?” He demanded trying to deny the validity of her words.

How could a man millions of light-years away truly know what was right for his subjects. How could he give orders?

 

“I don't know. One of our superiors, maybe, but not him,” she insisted trying to convince him.

 

“The father you love. You think he wants this? You think he'd ask this of you? You think this is righteous?”

 

Castiel couldn’t meet her eyes. “What you're feeling? It's called doubt.”

Castiel wasn’t sure how he felt about Dean only that this entire situation felt wrong.

***

“You know something, Alastair?” Dean began letting all the venom he had stored up against this man boil to the surface.

“I could still dream. Even with all the pain and drugs. And over and over and over, you know what I dreamt?” Dean asked.

There was a slight hesitation on Alistair’s face

“I dreamt of this moment. Of slicing you cut for cut, wearing Sam as a costume won’t stop me. Flaying you alive would only be the start.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he meant his words or not. The ache inside his chest seemed to consume his entire body. He felt himself slipping he was losing the grip he had on his sanity. His soul felt heavy as if it weighed him down. It would be much easier to be a monster. To give in to the lack of humanity kill Alistair and never look back.

He told Cas that if he went through with this he would never be the same man. He would never be able to be a man that loved anyone fearlessly. He would be a monster a soulless demon just like Alistair.

Part of him was willing to give up, why was he holding on to his humanity? Cas didn’t want him, and nothing short of violence would give him his brother back.

“The angels” he ordered reminding him. He plunged the knife into his stomach and twisted.

He gave a non-committal shrug before coughing blood covered his lips, flinching in pain.

His eyes were glassy with pain. It was surreal seeing Sam’s eyes. He was close to collapse. While Alastair was a demon, he was residing in a mostly human body.

“Who's murdering the angels? How are they doing it?” Dean insisted clenching his jaw trying to focus on his goal, not on the image of his brother bleeding by his hand that would be forever scorched in his mind.

 

“You think I'm gonna tell you?” Alastair laughed, but it was weak and thready.

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

“Do you really think this is gonna fix you? Give you closure? That is sad. That's really sad. Sad, sad.”

 

Dean approached Alastair watching him for a moment, before stabbing him again.

 

“I carved you into a new animal, Dean. There is no going back.”

 

“Maybe you're right. But now it's my turn to carve.”

 

Dean twisted his hand again blood welled up around the knife coating his fingers. His eyes rolled back in his head as he threatened to lose consciousness as he choked on his blood.

 

“How are the demons killing angels?” Dean asked again the last shreds of his will to go on fraying around him.

 

“I don't know.” He finally shouted. Dean took a few steps back confused. The man was slowly dying. If they didn’t get him to the regeneration pod as they had him he would die, and soon.

However here, he was denying the only thing that would save him. While he wasn’t the real Alastair the instinct to preserve himself was just as strong he wouldn’t be capable of simply giving up knowing there were more copies of him in existence.

 

“Right.” Dean scoffed.

 

“It's not us. We're not doing it.” Alastair swore through clenched teeth.

 

“I don't believe you.” He contended pushing the knife.

 

“Lilith is not behind this. She wouldn't kill seven angels. Oh, she'd kill a hundred, a thousand.”

Dean believed him. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that it wasn’t Alastair who was killing the angels, it wasn’t even the demons.

 

“Where is my brother?” Dean snarled abandoning the angel’s goal switching tactics. This might be his last chance to question him about Sammy. It was obvious that at one point they had Sam otherwise this clone wouldn’t exist, but that did mean that they still had Sam or that Sam was still alive, and while the possibility ate away at his heart he needed to know.

“You are going to be disappointed.” He warned gleefully

“You haven’t disappointed me so far.” Dean goaded “Who has my brother?”

“No one has him...” Alastair continued Dean frowned prepared to beat the answer out of him when he finished his sentence. “He volunteered.”

Dean turned trying to absorb the words. What did he mean Sam volunteered?

“You were supposed to bring it on. But, in the end, it was him.”

“What?”

“The end of this fight, Lucifer. Going home.” He clarified.

Dean was still confused. He absently held the knife aloft covered in his brother’s blood.

It was clear that Alastair was enjoying Dean’s confusion. Dean knew that was what the demons wanted. To free Lucifer so that they could go home, but how did Sam fit into that picture.

“What does Sam have to do with bringing back Lucifer?”

Alastair cocked his head to the side “Everything.”

Dean wanted to wipe that smug look off of his face, but that look screamed Sam. It was his brother. Dean knew inside it wasn’t Sam, but his bloodied face was all that he could see.

“Explain.” Dean growled.

 

“I had your pop on my rack for close to a year.” Alastair began.

 

“Quit stalling” Dean snapped.

“A good story has a beginning a middle and an end Dean, can’t start at the end.”

Dean clenched his fists desperate to know what the fuck was going on. Angels and Demons, the whole damn bunch of them, were shady and evasive.

 

“John Winchester. Made a good name for himself. After each session, I'd make him the same offer I made you. I'd put down my blade if he picked one up. But he said nein each and every time. Oh, damned if I couldn't break him. Pulled out all the stops, but John, he was, well, made of something unique. The stuff of heroes…” He was grinning it was nasty dark glee mixed with blood.

 

“And then came, Dean. Dean Winchester. I thought I was up against it again. I thought I’d lost you when that angel took you out ahead of schedule but the devil smiled upon us, and I got you back. But daddy's little girl, he broke… just not the man your daddy wanted you to be, huh, Dean?"

Dean stepped forward to kill him but Alastair continued.

“…Then Sam came along. Said he would do anything to get his big brother out of jail.”

Dean’s stomach fell.

“The reason Lilith wanted you there in the first place. She thought taking your daddy would be enough to get you to offer up yourself to save him, but no such luck. All along we thought you would be Lucifer’s champion, but it was little Sammy.   The moment the angels take you away Sam was there.”

Dean felt all the color drain out of his face. Sam offered himself up to the Demons to save him, but what did the demons want him for? What were they planning? Cas said they were trying to free Lucifer, how was this helping their plan?

“Then who is killing the angels?” Dean asked his final thought aloud.

“Pity, I was hoping I’d get to watch you unravel after being unable to forget your brother’s screams.” Uriel stepped out of a door at the back of the room.

“Alastair should never have been taken alive. Really inconvenient.” he muttered. He was drawing the long silver blade Dean knew so well.

He took a few steps back the weapons at his disposal were designed for inflicting pain, not for combat.

Still the he hefted the hammer hoping that he could get close enough to make it count.

Sam/Alastair laughed he was losing blood heavily now it was pooling at his feet. He wouldn’t see the end of this fight and yet he was laughing like a mad man.

There wasn’t time to examine the scope of what this meant all Dean knew was that Junkless was trying to kill him, and he had every intention of making that impossible.

“I wanted Castiel to join my ranks, but it seems I’ll have to dispose of his pet first.”

Uriel taunted. He was not afraid of Dean and that made him vulnerable. He underestimated him, and someone only underestimated a Winchester once.

Uriel was an angel which meant that he was quicker and stronger than Dean, but Dean had fought angels his entire life. Usually as a team but he didn’t have that luxury now.

His first step was to disarm the angel. While he was capable of killing him, bare handed it was a lot harder. Uriel moved to stab him with the blade. Dean sidestepped the thrust and slammed the hammer down on his outstretched arm with all his might. The hammer impacted Uriel’s arm with a dull crunching sound causing him to drop the blade. He grunted in pain but recovered quicker than Dean expected striking him in the face with his opposite hand.

The impact sent him flying across the room. He hit the wall hard. It knocked all the air out of him. This is why they fought angels as a team the fuckers could hit like a ton of bricks and then just keep coming. Uriel didn’t give him time to catch his breath. His face was covered in blood it dripped into his eyes stinging and making it hard for him to see. Uriel held him by his shirt collar and punched him repeatedly, each impact seen him rocking back with its force sending him closer and closer to oblivion. Then he dropped him he sunk like a stone all dead weight trying to gather his bearings.

Uriel held him up by the throat and shoving him up against the wall, lifting his feet off the floor.

“It is such a shame, I really had wanted to see you in the arena, but you know too much. I can’t fathom why the Oaid would choose you of all people for his plan. ”

Dean wasn’t sure if he heard Uriel right or if the lack of oxygen was addling his brain. The Oaid? Castiel’s leader wanted him for his plan? Castiel said as much before, but he never elaborated, he swore he didn’t know, and yet Uriel did. How?

Alastair was the last person Dean ever thought would come to his aid but one second Uriel was in front of him preparing to turn his skull into brain pudding and the next he was grasping his neck as if he was force choked by Vader himself.

Sam/Alastair looked like a manic he was soaked in blood, it was running down his body in messy torrents. Dripping from his eyes as he pushed his will at Uriel. Why the lunatic was on his side in that instant, he would never know, maybe it had something to do with the Demonic plot or maybe there was more of Sam in the meat-suit than anyone originally thought.

***

Castiel heard a commotion in the next room. Worried for Dean he spun not caring if Tessa followed him or not. He wasn’t sure what his intention was when he entered the room, but he knew it was about Dean.

Once inside, he saw Alastair choking the life out of Uriel. Dean sagged against the wall bloodied and bruised.

Instantly he pulled his silver blade where it was sheathed at his side. Alastair was distracted with Uriel and did not see him until too late. Castiel plunged the knife into his back piercing his heart.

Uriel fell gasping for breath. Alastair grasped at the end of the knife protruding from his chest gurgling as he collapsed.

Castiel hurried to Dean’s side. Pressing two fingers against his neck. He breathed a sigh of relief he was alive. He spun furiously on Uriel

“What happened?” He demanded angrily that he had allowed this to happen at all and even more livid that Dean had been harmed because of it.

“He and Alastair attacked me.” Uriel replied.

Castiel couldn’t believe it. Dean would not work with the demons least of all Alastair even if he currently looked like his brother.

There was something wrong about that statement.

“What?” he found himself asking

“Dean was trying to free Alastair in exchange for his brother and I interrupted them.”

The sickness in his stomach only worsened. Would Dean betray him to save his brother?

The answer was yes. Dean would do anything to save his brother and after Cas rejected him perhaps he had decided that their working together was no longer an option.

Still something didn’t feel right. He glanced down at Alastair’s body he had clearly been tortured.

“How would Alastair help Dean find Sam?” Castiel asked confused. He knew that Sam was working with Azazel, Uriel had told him as much. That Sam was working for the demon in exchange for power, presumably to free his brother and fight against the angels.

Uriel glared at him as if he was a child. “Because he belongs to Lilith.”

The news surprised him. Uriel had not mentioned this when he talked to him about Sam and his place in the greater plan. He had a terrible feeling that he truly had no comprehension of the scope of what was going on.

“He needs a regeneration pod.” Castiel continued looking down at Dean.

“No.”

Castiel turned to Uriel. “What?” he asked.

After the incident with Anna, he was taking orders from Uriel but this was beyond the bounds of the assignment.

“The human traitor must be put down.” Uriel insisted stepping closer trying to physically intimidate him.

Castiel felt a moment of sheer panic. They wanted to kill Dean,

“He is my property.” He added hastily. “You have no right.”

“Thus the only reason I haven’t ended him myself.” Uriel continued frustrated.

He was angry. More than usual. It was out of character. He was exasperated with something bordering on anxiety.

“I have the right to discipline him as I see fit.” Castiel reminded him trying to keep calm knowing that if he showed any extreme attachment to Dean he might as well kill him now.

“He is a traitor to the angelic state your rights are superseded.” Uriel continued. His right arm was tucked in close to his body. He could see that it was broken. Castiel scanned the ground a hammer lay discarded at Dean’s feet.

Uriel did this to him.

“I’ve already called the seraphs, to come and collect him.” Anger flashed through him, but he could not retaliate and keep Dean alive.

It would result in a quick sham trial and an even quicker execution Uriel stepped towards the door prepared to leave Dean to his early demise.

“This isn’t a matter of treason; Dean insulted your pride.” Castiel called out. Uriel froze.

He turned slowly the coldness of his eyes only further showed his seething anger.

“Let us settle this amongst ourselves.” Castiel insisted. Hoping that the gamble he was taking would pay off. He needed more time.

“and how would you suggest we do that?” he asked watching him hesitantly his interest was surely piqued he just needed offer him something he wanted, and hope he wasn’t killing Dean in a worse way in the process.

“The arena.” Castiel continued smoothly. He could see the bloodlust in his eyes. He wanted to watch Dean fight and yet something held him back.

“My honor mean’s nothing compared to the safety of the state.” He insisted slowly.

Castiel nodded. “Yes and if Dean survives the arena than we can discuss the safety of the state once he is returned to my custody.”

The gleam in Uriel’s eyes was murderous, but it was obvious what he truly wanted.

“Agreed.”

***

Dean woke gradually. He had taken his licks fighting angels before. He had more broken bones and contusions in his life than he could count, but it never got any easier. The beeping of machines attached to him clued him into the fact that he was in the hospital. The handcuff that was attached to his arm and the bed let him know his night was going from bad to worse.

“Are you all right?” Cas inquired quietly from his side. He was sitting in a chair by the bed. He was slouched and uncharacteristically disheveled. He looked like a man who was lost, but Dean had little sympathy for him. The reason he felt like this was because of Cas, and it wasn’t the physical wounds that hurt the most.

 

“No thanks to you.” He continued if he sounded bitter he couldn’t be blamed. His entire world had been turned on its head because of this man, and it turned out all his talk about honor and loyalty to the state was a lie. By now he was surely working with Uriel. It was just more angelic bullshit politics. They came in and blew up his life like he was inconsequential with to them he was. He was a lesser being. That had been hammered into him since he was a child and still briefly he had been fooled into believing that Cas and he were equals. Maybe that was how he took it, but obviously Cas had different interpretations.

 

“You need to be more careful.” Cas whispered unobtrusively. The order rubbed against his frayed nerves. Now he cared enough to worry about him. He could feel that the distance between them had expanded. Maybe once, Cas had been open to him. Now he was more closed off than ever.

 

“You need to learn how to manage a damn interrogation” Dean retorted annoyed.

 

“That's not what I mean…” he closed his eyes as if it took all his energy to keep them open. “Uriel is angry.” He added his bright blue eyes seemed oddly sad. Why was he the one who was sad? The man made his choices. He chose the state each and every time.

 

“Good, I hope his damn broken arm hurts like a bitch.” It hurt to breath. His throat still felt sore every time he swallowed. His words came out raspy and weak without the threat he intended.

Cas looked at him he seemed strangely angry at him.

“You committed treason against the angelic order.”

Dean laughed disappointed. Is that what they were calling it? Blame the human, typical.

“What else is new?” He wondered sullenly. Of course Cas would side with the angels. How had he ever been dumb enough to believe that even for a moment that he was really his friend?

 

“Is it true? Is Sam working with the demons?” Dean asked after a moment of tense silence.

 

Cas closed his eyes again, the emotions that crossed his face confused Dean.

Someday someone ought to tell the man that everything he felt was there for everyone to see, but now wasn’t the time.

“Yes.” He answered simply. He didn’t garnish it with apologies or offer any further explanations.

 

“Why didn't you just tell me?” Dean asked his shattered expression made his heart ache.

 

Dean’s eyes drifted away from his own and Castiel could tell that the man was lost in his dark thoughts. He seemed utterly defeated, and it broke his heart to see him that way he wanted to tell Dean, that it was because he was afraid. That when he freed him from hell he did not know where Sam was only the rumors, and it wasn’t until Halloween that the rumor proved hard to deny.

Once he learned the truth Sam disappeared. There had been no trace of him. Uriel filled in the pieces he had been missing.

He wanted to say all of those things and yet he couldn’t he had his orders. Dealing with Sam was a separate matter he was not to interfere with Sam and Lilith’s plans for him. The angels were aware of what was going on and had plans in place to combat it. He was not allowed to tell Dean about his brother, but he had the right to know.

 

“You have to save him.”

 

Dean watched him. “What, Sam?”

Castiel looked away. Dean knew what was at stake. He knew a war among the angels and demons would spell death and destruction for humans. He was angry and embittered, but he could not allow Dean to lose himself. Saving his brother. It was who Dean was. He wasn’t the angelic pawn that others were making him into. He knew that no matter how the situation ended, for Dean to be happy he needed to save Sam.

“What does that mean? Hey! Don’t you lie to me, you son of a bitch. What does that mean!

 

“I don't know.” He finished because he couldn’t fathom why the angels were interested in keeping Sam Winchester alive especially when he was such a strong ally for the demons. Every new detail he found out only gave him further questions.

 

“Bull.”

 

His disbelief stung, but it was not without cause. He had lied to Dean, repeatedly, but he was trying to do the right thing even if he didn’t know what it was.

“I don't. Dean, they don't tell me much. I know Sam is in trouble and that our fate rests with you.”

Dean chuckled darkly, “Well, then you guys are screwed.” Dean managed to whisper. He found himself shaking his head. Alastair had gotten in his head. He couldn’t deal with what he had done in hell. What he had done to Sam.

“I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not—I'm not strong enough.”

It hurt Castiel to watch Dean suffer so greatly both physically and mentally. It hurt to watch the man he once knew as strong and confident lose himself, to insecurity and fear.

“Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be.” He whispered the last, but under his breath.

Tessa stood in the doorway drawing Dean’s attention. He turned back to him with a question in his eyes.

Castiel looked away he did not want to do this now, but he had no other choice. It bought him the time he needed to save Dean.

“I am surrendering you to the arena.” He continued stiffly. He couldn’t show Dean how he felt. Not now not with Tessa watching waiting to report his transgressions to the council. He could not show his real feelings not when he couldn’t be sure that Dean hated him.

Dean shot up regardless of the pain he was feeling and instantly regretted it, but he could not still the pounding of his heart.

Days ago he would have been happy that this was Cas’s plan he was tired of inactivity and finding Sam in the arena had seemed the easiest option, but the sudden change in Cas unnerved him.

“What the fuck are you saying?” Dean demanded. This wasn’t the equal relationship they had fostered. This was Cas turning over his slave to die like it was nothing like he was meaningless.

“As punishment for your treason you are to fight in the arena, I will collect you again in the end if you survive.” His words were cold. He could barely look at him.

Dean felt his heart shatter again. First he rejected him then he threw him away like human garbage.

Castiel pleaded with him, with his eyes. He needed Dean to understand that he had no intention of letting him fight in the arena.

Dean felt the bile rise in his throat. He meant nothing to him. Worse than that he was once again at another’s beck and call. He was a slave.

Broken he looked up into eyes of the only other angel who managed to break him.

“So why are you here?” he asked disheartened. She smiled softly. “I am here to help you, Dean.” She murmured.

“Yeah how is that?” he jeered

“I am here to remind that death is nothing to fear.” She crooned. “If it’s your time to go, Dean, you must. You're living on borrowed time already.”

He couldn’t argue there. He should have died in hell and saved himself all the heartbreak, but he was never the type of man who could give up easily. There was too much depending on him. He wasn’t sure what Cas meant when he said that his fate and Sammy’s was in his hands, but it wasn’t the first time that he had that job.

His entire life had been dedicated to keeping Sammy safe, and all along he had let his brother down.

“My family is in danger. See, we're kind of in the middle of this, um, war, and they need me.” He let the rancor drip from every word. He hated her. She broke him when he was young, and he never got over that shame, he almost let Cas get away with the same thing.

“What? Your whole angel-demon dance-off? I could care less.” She continued rolling her eyes.

Somehow trivializing his role in helping his brother only served to piss him off. Maybe he didn’t feel up to the task but he couldn’t just give up. He couldn’t just go back to being that boy he was when he knew her.

“My brother. He could die without me.” He insisted thinking about Sam. He had wallowed enough in his self-pity.

Cas didn’t care about him as he thought. Boo fucking hoo, he was a fighter, always had been, and always would be. Hell sometimes when fighting was the worst option he still did it.

“Maybe he will, maybe he won't. Nothing you can do about it. The arena, It's an honorable death. A warrior's death.”

“There is no such thing a dying with dignity.” Dean countered. “Death is messy. It’s cruel, and it’s happens way too fucking often to have anything positive attached to it.”

She was watching him. He could not read her expression.

“After our little, uh, experience...for that whole year, I felt like I had this...hole in my gut...like I was missing something. I didn't know what. Now I do. Do you know what it was?”

Tessa listened stoically. Her hair was still slicked back from her face in a smooth braid. She smelled of lilac and leather. He had no desire to be with her. As a kid, he had been drawn to her, but he was very different and as much as he hated to admit it. Anna was right, there was only one angel for him.

 

“It was my self-respect, I lost it again with the pain of losing my father and Sammy. I just...I wish… he let the words trail off not sure what he had been about to say. What did he wish? That he had stayed in hell? That he had never met Cas, because that wasn’t true. As much as Cas’s betrayal hurt him it was a lesson he needed to learn. One he thought by now he would never forget, he wasn’t allowed to be happy.

“But I guess things are different now.”

“What? The angel on your shoulder?” she asked her eyes were narrowed as she examined his every move. She was reading him it was something she constantly did during his training.

 

“So, you know about him huh? Well, hey, don't get me wrong. I mean, most the ones I've met are dicks with wings. ”

He met her eyes at the moment letting her know he included her in the description.

“I thought we were equals. I thought there was a ghost of a chance that we could be something different somehow. But still... I shouldn’t have believed it. You know, I've done things. Horrible things. And it felt like someone upstairs still decided to give me a second chance. It just makes me feel...I don't know.”

“Uh-huh.” She continued with a raised brow.

“I am gonna stop you there.” She continued. It was then he realized he was speaking more then he intended. While his head was not a fuzzy as it was before he could only assume that she had drugged him while he was unconscious.

“The resistance sent me.” He frowned.

“They figured the angel betrayed you when didn’t check in.” Dean was confused Tessa worked with the resistance, how was that possible?

She trained him to be a goddamned sex slave. She reached the IV drip next to him and moved the knobs releasing more morphine into his system.

“Yeah I know you’re confused, but we can’t talk about it here.” She continued.

He started to object, but she continued.

“You will go to the arena training grounds. From there one of our agents will contact you.”

He knew he couldn’t trust her. Why should he? Bobby never mentioned knowing any angels except for Cas, and while he could only understand every other word that came out of his mouth Ash was a fucking genius, surely he would have said something. The drugs were starting to take effect.

She cocked her head to the side again. Watching him. “We're all scared Dean. That's the big secret. We're all scared.”

He was having trouble understanding the context of her words. What was everyone scared of? Death? Love? Life?

“I've been around from the get-go. You know what I see most? Lies. ‘He's in a better place.’ ‘At least they're together now.’ You all lie to yourselves, Dean, 'cause like you said, deep down, you're all scared. Stop lying to yourself, Dean.”

“What?” he managed to ask. His tongue felt thick, and he was having trouble with his train of thought. She smiled down at him sadly.

 

“That your angel has something good in store for you. A second chance. Really? 'Cause I'm pretty sure, deep down, you know something nasty's coming down the road. Trust your instincts, Dean. There's no such thing as miracles.”

“What are you saying?” Dean wondered Cas had already betrayed him what else could happen?

“I think you know.”

 

***

Castiel fought collapse as he walked quickly down the corridor from Dean’s room. He had done his job he broke Dean’s heart to preserve his life. He wanted to fall to the ground and beg Dean’s forgiveness. He didn’t want him believing the worst of him, and yet he could not offer him any other hope. They were watching him. Waiting for him to slip up and reveal the fact that he had no intention of letting Dean fight in the arena. He was not sure what he was planning he did not want to betray the angelic state, but he could not let them kill Dean. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Dean, but he needed him.

Suddenly Uriel grabbed him from behind in a chokehold. Jamming a needle into his neck. The sharp pain surprised him. He gasped, and Uriel’s heavy hand snaked around over his mouth.

“Sorry, brother but, I can’t risk you trying to save Dean Winchester.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love your comments.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short on actual named angels so I pulled some from later seasons but its the only spoiler from later seasons.

 

_**(Trigger warning more torture scenes)** _

 

 

 

***

The electric shock coursed through him. His muscles contracted in a spasm as the current moved through them. Castiel clenched his teeth against the sudden influx of pain. His wrists were chained above his head; he had been stripped of his clothing.

The nudity only served as an additional level of humiliation, and yet it was a blessing the room was unbearably hot. The room was bathed in a red overhead light. The dampness beneath his cuffs chaffed at his wrists digging into his skin. The salt of his sweat stung the fresh abrasions. He was suspended by his wrists his toes just grazing the ground beneath him. He had been in that position long enough to cause tingling in his fingertips.

He was not sure how long he had been held prisoner. Days, likely. He was thirsty. The dryness in his mouth only served to remind him of the moisture he was losing. He heard a loud thunk and the heat from red overhead the light disappeared and a spotlight of bright white light was directed to an object before him. There was a slight crackling that precluded the loudspeaker.

“Look at the picture.” The disembodied voice barked harshly.

He opened his eyes trying to obey the order. It hurt less when he listened to the commands of the voice. His vision swam his focus moving in and out. He blinked rapidly several times trying to narrow his focus to the image before him.

It was Dean. He now knew the picture by memory. The image was not very clear; it was obvious that it had been taken from a distance. Dean had a far off look in his eyes he was not looking in the direction of the camera he had a phone up to his ear. His brows were pinched together in worry. His green eyes were shining in the daylight. The image was cropped, but he could see the beginnings of people standing around him wearing resistance colors. He looked younger than he did now. He was still handsome, but some of his worries had not settled into his features.   The moment Castiel was able to perceive the image the current ripped through him again.

He screamed out in pain; it didn’t matter that this action was constantly repeated. The sudden shock had not lessened even though he had begun to expect it.

He breathed in raggedly trying to catch his breath. His breathing sounded harsh and constrained in the narrow room. It was unbearably loud. His arms shuddered involuntarily rattling the chains that held him. He did not have the strength to lift his head from where it hung staring at the grimy floor. There was a large circular drain placed directly beneath him. Designed for cleaning up all the waste he created. The white tiles beneath him surrounding the drain were stained a dingy rust color of old blood. The sizzle of the speaker began again. His heart lurched knowing that it wasn’t over.

The speaker barked the order again “Look at the picture.”

***

Dean Winchester would be arriving today. The rumor circulated amongst the inmates as a sad bit of gossip. Some of them remembered him from their time spent in the resistance, but there were not many of them left. Most of them just knew the stories. Stories from the outside were always held as precious here. The Ludus Matutinus the training ground of Bestiarii was well appointed and was only part of a larger compound, and yet they were all still slaves. Most were noxii people deemed intolerable to the state and were placed in the arena to die with little hope of freedom. Condemned to the beasts and if the beasts did not kill them, then they were left to fight each other. The rest were voluntary if voluntary was loosely translated. They voluntarily fought to survive, and because they survived they were outfitted with armor and training. The longer you survived, the more resources and luxuries you were given. Survive long enough and there was hope that one day you might be granted freedom. This boon was not automatically granted. Many masters enjoyed taunting their slaves with the promise of freedom with the intention of never delivering.

By the time that Dean arrived at the compound, a crowd had gathered. They were all dressed in dirty, ragged clothing, but for the most part they were clean. While they were slaves, they represented an investment on the part of their owner. Those who won were given medical care and rejuvenating treatments designed to elongate their ability to fight. Some had been unchanging for over a decade.

Dean was only semi-conscious as he was walked half dragged by two guards. He wore a thick titanium collar around his neck with metal rings on either side both attached to spring hooks at the end of two wooden poles that guided his hesitant movements forcing him forward. He wore the same dingy brown, grey pants as everyone else, and like most of the men he was shirtless.

He was resisting the movement of the guards, but he was still obviously drugged. He tried to drag his bare feet into the packed earth of the training area, but his strength was not enough to overpower the guards. As they dragged him past the entire quarter was silent. Watching, it was the downfall of a hero, it was a solemn moment. Many bowed their heads in respect as he staggered by this would be the only show of deference, in the arena there was no veneration, no morality, and no mercy.

They paused before a stage in the center of the yard. Dean’s head lolled forward his face directed towards the ground. A thin man with lank brown hair stepped up on to a stage. The stockade where prisoners were displayed for public punishment served as a backdrop for his words. Malachi was not the slave owner, he was a low-level angel, and a lanista the overseer of gladiators it was part of his job description to be vindictive and cruel. Something he fulfilled in new and creative ways. To his right was Theo he was a burly man with slashing scars across his face. He was one cog in Malachi’s operation here at the Ludus Matutinus. As former slave, his obedience earned him a place as a trainer.

“Today changes nothing,” Malachi shouted from the platform. He was watching the slaves closely for any signs of dissent his dark eyes narrowed. There had been slave revolts before, never under his watch, and he had no intention of allowing Dean Winchesters presence to spark one now. The man was a symbol of the resistance the rebel human poster boy, and it was his job to break him. Many had tried and failed, but if the rumors he heard were true Dean had cracked in Hell. From there he would simply need the right leverage. Blood was thicker than water after all.

“I call for an immediate sanction against Dean Winchester.” He paused a moment to let the severity of his proclamation sink in.

“Anyone caught giving him any aid will receive half-rations and one hundred lashes.” A startled murmur went through the crowd. The punishment was harsh. Typically the slaves were left to their own devices while in the barracks. They were monitored closely for signs of resistance, but they were granted that modicum of human interactions. However, Malachi wanted to make Dean a pariah. They respected him, and that was dangerous. Uriel wanted Dean to die in the arena, but Malachi knew better than the let the man become a martyr. His job consisted of two things, keeping the slaves in line and entertaining the masses need for blood. It was his job to assure Dean’s demise and to guarantee that it provided one hell of a show.

***

The barracks were cramped several cots were jammed into the narrow enclosure. Twenty slaves were housed in the same section as Dean. The floor was the identical packed clay as the training yard. The ceilings were squat forcing Dean to stoop. The collar around his neck was connected to the cuffs around his wrists it was not a shock collar, he knew from watching the fights on TV that he would be fitted for one before he was placed in the arena.   It allowed him a limited range of movement. One of his ankles was shackled the thicker chain was connected to the bed with enough slack that he could reach of the conveniently located piss pots. Dean had only been semi-conscious when he arrived, but he had not missed his grand entrance. The other prisoners gave him a wide berth. Not that he blamed them, he worked better alone anyway.

Today was the first day he would enter the training ground. Up until now he had spent most of his day’s unconscious in the hospital chained to the bed. It had been four maybe five days since he had seen Cas. He had not come to see him again. Good riddance he figured he was better off. Cas would just distract him. Tessa had not returned or sent messages. Dean had no idea what he was getting into, but he knew that he couldn’t afford to get distracted. If he was lucky the resistance was getting him out, but if things ran the way they usually did he needed to be his own hero. That meant surviving the arena. If he were turned back over to Cas at that point, he would deal with the man then.

So far his life in the arena had been almost boring. After his head cleared from the drugs he received his first meal a weird amalgamation of vegetables, fruit, meat, and bread. The ingredients were baked into a solid loaf. It varied from bland to disgusting, but it provided enough nutrition to keep prisoners healthy without requiring utensils. He had eaten in silence. The other slaves appeared to be in better condition than many he had seen in hell. None of them was starving, most of them had the same warily look however as if they knew they could be attacked at any moment. Many of them sported nasty scars, but some of that was to be expected. Both men and women fought in the arena, but the sexes were separated while in the barracks.

His fellow prisoners watched him with silent apprehension. He wasn’t sure what would happen today, but he was anxious. Sitting around waiting to die wasn’t his style. So when the guards arrived and did not unlock him from his bunk he voiced his concerns.

“Hey dick bag what’s the deal?” he demanded shaking his wrists indicating his chains.

One guard shot him an angry look he had slashing scars over his face, but he did not respond. They did not meet his eyes as they led the other slaves out into the training field.

Dean was getting pissed. He could not sit here chained to the bed day in and day out. He would lose his mind.

“Hey listen to me!” he shouted jumping up from his sitting position nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling in his haste.

“You don’t need training.” He replied dismissively. “You’ll get your turn in the arena soon.” He added walking out the door.

Dean was frustrated. “Son of a bitch.” He groused he kicked the cot over nearly losing his leg in the process as the bed jerked him with it.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelled again with more ire as he struggled to right his bed.

This was fucking crazy.

He sat heavily on the cot holding his head in his hands. Things were changing so fast his head was spinning. His heart was racing it wasn’t from fear, he wasn’t afraid of dying, not really, but he didn’t want to go out without a fight.

He took a deep breath trying to find the calm center, his Dad had used anger in a fight more than once, but he always stressed that anger was messy. If Dean was going to survive he needed to let go of everything but calm, he was hurt Cas betrayed him and he had every intention of making the man pay for that but all the anger in the world wouldn’t help him survive this. Plus Junkless told Cas that he had a Winchester as a fighter in the arena it was possible that Sam was locked up here just like he was waiting for a fight. As much as he didn’t like the idea he would have to trust Sam to hold his own until they were put together because he knew the angel couldn’t resist.

He carefully lowered himself to the floor. Dean knew a few pushups wouldn’t make him any more ready for the arena, but it would help him keep his calm until it was time to fight.

***

“What the fuck do you mean we can’t get him out?” Jo demanded the other woman watched her like she was lower than dirt, but she was used to that reaction from angels.

Tessa was a fearsome sight in her leather armor, but today she was more casually dressed she wore a black v neck t-shirt and dark blue jeans. She was trying to blend in; this meeting would likely get them all killed if anyone caught them. Ellen was equally wary of the angel. She contacted them several months ago claiming that she was interested in helping the rebellion. Naturally nobody trusted her, but until now she simply fed them information that they had taken with a grain of salt. However, the situation with Dean changed things.

“If you had waited for me to continue I would have added the word, yet.” It was obvious by her tone that Jo was testing the angel’s patience.

Jo and Dean had the same opinions on Angels or at least they used too. An angel killed her dad; it was John’s Winchester’s fault, but that didn’t change how she felt about angels.

Now it was likely that they were also the reason Sam or at least something that looked like Sam carved her up.

She shuddered involuntarily that was easily the worst night of her life. When Dean went to hell, there was nothing they could do. It was too well fortified to do it on their own, and everyone assumed that Dean was dead. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

“And why is that exactly?” she asked her hand on her hip.

“Because of Castiel.” Tessa had a strangely pensive look on her face.

Jo quickly glanced at Bobby. The older man had a strange look on his face. He knew alright or at least suspected some of what Dean had told her.

That damn angel she had told Dean not to trust him and look where that got him.

“What did he do to Dean?”

Tessa frowned “No, he is missing.”

“Why does that matter?” Jo wondered why should she give a fuck about an angel, especially one that had Dean twisted in knots. “Because he was going to save Dean,”   Tessa replied.

***

 

Cas’s hands were tied down the ropes were so tight that they dug into his flesh. The fibers irritated his already inflamed skin. He was on a thin makeshift bed of some kind. It felt like he had been here for years. They had dosed him again. His vision swam colors felt exceptionally vivid. While his eyes were open, the ceiling above him appeared to ripple when his eyes were closed colored patterns shifted behind his eyelids. Time seemed to be stretching, repeating itself, changing speed or stopping altogether.

It was cold. His breath hung in the air his body was shivering he had no control over the shuddering motions. They felt ripped from him. Occasionally someone would come and test his limbs, rubbing warmth into them which only added to the pain. They attached warmed intravenous fluids to his body, and it warmed him slowly but felt like fire in his veins. The cold always seeped its way through his entire body. At first the chill was not unpleasant compared to the heat from the room before but quickly the ice burned his skin. He thought that he could feel his blood draining away from his hands and feet. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the drugs, but he was having trouble remembering why he was here. Was he being punished? That must be the case. He must have done something wrong, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it was.

“Who are you?” a voice by his side asked. He could not bear to look over he instead tried to focus of the words.

Who was he? The answer was on the tip of his tongue just out of reach. His thoughts were spiraling into themselves,

“Cas… Castiel?” he asked feeling like the name sounded familiar. Someone called him Cas he could remember that. There was this ghostly voice in the back of his head and green eyes. He couldn’t see the rest of the face just the eyes.

“He’s not ready.” The voice added, but it was softer as it was not directed to him.

“Dose him again.” replied a separate voice.

***

Dean’s head snapped up when someone entered the room. He had been sitting at the edge of the bed his head in his hand waiting. Every day the other slaves were ushered out of the room and they were trained. It was driving him crazy waiting for his chance to fight. No one spoke to him. He was completely alone, and yet he was surrounded by people. Today however something was different. At first he hoped that the day he would enter the arena had finally come. It was almost funny how fucked up his life was that he was looking forward to a death match, but rather than one of the guards entering the room a scruffy looking thin man with mousy brown hair and beard stumbled into the room. His blue-grey eyes took in the room before quickly dropping back to the ground. His hands were chained, but rather than walk him the rest of the way in the guard simply slammed the door shut. He wasn’t dressed like most of the other slaves he was obviously still in his street clothes the grey hooded sweater hung over his layered chest it was wrapped tightly around him almost as if he was using it for protection.

“Hey!” Dean shouted after the guards. “When am I gonna get out of here?” As usual no one responded.

The other man continued to look all around the room except him his arms wrapped around himself the best his chains could allow.

“Hey you ok?” he asked abandoning the useless quest to get information from the guards.

His eyes leaped up to him. “Oh!” The man exclaimed fretfully “Oh, you're still there.”

Dean scowled

“Yup,” Dean continued this new guy obviously had a screw loose.

“You're not a hallucination.” He queried

“Not that I know of.” He responded mockingly clapping both hands on his chest demonstrating how solid he was.

The other man took a deep, shaky breath letting it out slowly.

“Oookay” he whispered to himself.

“Do I know you?” Dean asked the man was pacing now he was shorter than Dean and wasn’t having as much trouble with the low ceiling.

“Nooo… nope.” He replied shaking his head his voice was soft and pensive it was a thoughtful voice.

“But I know you.”

Dean laughed “Yeah join the club pal.” The man watched him confused before shuffling over to him.

Dean hesitated he didn’t really want to get the new guy killed because he was stupid enough to talk to him, but he figured as long as he didn’t let the man help him things might go ok.

“My name is Chuck Shurley.” He informed him reaching towards him.

“Dean Winchester, but you already knew that.” He replied clasping his hand.

Chuck shook his head. “I never knew your name till now.”

Dean frowned dropping his hand. “What are you talking about?”

“My dreams,” Chuck added quickly “When I saw you in them I never caught your name.”

Dean chuckled “As flattering as it is to be your dream guy Chuck poor timing. Maybe if you used that line in a bar I might have gone for it just for the hell of it but we are going to be fighting for our lives here and I’m pretty sure sleeping with me would put you at a disadvantage.”

“That’s not… I mean, not that I wouldn’t, I mean…” Chuck continued to sputter when Dean raised a hand up to slow the man down

“What did you mean then?” he asked. He was blushing. It was kind of cute.

“I see things…” he began “Yeah ok Haley Joel.” Dean scoffed, but Chuck ignored him and continued “It usually starts with a headache. A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so... I drink. Until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to believe. “And that was the first time you dreamt about me?” he asked yep it sounded just as crazy out loud as it did in his head.

“It flowed. It just, it kept flowing. It still does. I-I can't stop it, really.”

“What do you see?” he wondered he had seen stranger shit in his life than a guy dreaming about him.

Whatever that copy Sam did on Halloween had been a real crazy thing. It was like he had some freaky psychic powers. They all did. That Simon says kid and Sparky it wasn’t like anything Dean had seen before. The angels were basically like humans except for their regenerative powers speed and strength. Now it seemed like they might have been hiding abilities, that angel burned Pamela’s eyes out, and it seemed like someone gave those guys special abilities. Then now Chuck was somehow tuning into him of dream TV.

“That’s the weird part.” Chuck continued walking closer “It is just scenes in your life.”

Dean raised a brown. “You have freaky visions and that is the weird part?” Dean wondered

He blushed and stammered again he was avoiding eye contact. Dean couldn’t tell if it was because he was intimidated by him or hiding something.

“I-it’s not like I see everything, it’s like watching a movie except I don’t get any context. I see just random days I saw the day you got out of hell, how you didn’t kill that angel, and I saw Halloween how your brother saved you from that Samhain guy.”

“That wasn’t Sammy,” Dean replied dismissively “That was a Sam clone.”

Chuck frowned confused.

“No that was your brother.” He insisted. Dean stood forcing Chuck to raise his eyes up to him.

“What are you saying? How can you be sure?”

Chuck rubbed his hand on the back of his neck ducking his face out of Dean’s view. “Because I see him too, I watched him leave, that night.”

Dean felt like his entire being snapped to attention. This was it the first real clue about Sammy. His heart raced, maybe he was in the shit hole for a reason after all.

“Where is he?” he demanded his voice came out almost as a growl.

Chuck pleaded with his expressive blue-grey eyes. “I don’t know.” He replied weakly.

“Bullshit cut the crap, Chuck, what did you see?” “I don’t know where he is it doesn’t work like that, but he left with someone.”

“Who?” Dean demanded “A demon with yellow eyes. He called him Azazel.”

“A demon?” he spat out surprised. Was Alastair telling the truth? He thought Uriel had him? If Junkless didn’t have him was Cas lying to him about that or did he not know. Alastair said he volunteered was that true?

“What happened?” Chuck sat heavily on the bunk across from him; Dean was too agitated to sit

“I can take it; just spit it out. Was he

“Yeah, but you especially are not gonna like this.” “Why what is it, Chuck?”

“He drank his blood…”

Dean felt the expression on his face shift from confusion, surprise, and disgust.

What did that mean? What was Sam doing? Why was the whole world crazy?

***

“Who are you?” a voice asked. He didn’t bother opening his eyes he would not have been able to see the owner of the voice either way. The blindfold had been in place for days. He wasn’t sure if it how many days it had been since he was captured only that he was lost. They removed the headphones so that he could hear the speaker. The sensory deprivation made the man’s whisper feel like screams. He was sitting in a hard wooden back chair. His ankles and wrist were tightly bound to its arms and legs. His hand was forced open, and tiny needles had been placed underneath his fingernails.

The sharp pain kept him focused in his body it kept him from floating. Things were better when he could disconnect from his body which is why they kept him in pain it was a tether so that he couldn’t float far away from himself. His mind was in shreds he could not hold on to his own thoughts. The tattered remnants of his mind slipped through his fingers like angry ghosts. He wasn’t sure how to answer the question. The sharp pain in his hands had devolved into a throbbing burning sensation. He opened his eyes slowly, but he didn't have the strength to lift his head, so he stared at the silver blood encrusted shards protruding from his hands.

 

“I don’t know.” He responded his voice was dry he tried to moisten his cracked lips, but there felt like his mouth was filled with ash. His entire body felt heavy, he was so thirsty and hungry he could barely remember the last time he ate it was days ago.

“You, celestial being, have been created to be an angel of the Lord.” The voice replied.

“Who are you?” the voice asked.

“I am an angel of the lord.” he replied instantly.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long to post this but I am almost done with season 4 was planning to continue on to an alternate season 5 as well... I am thinking of making it a series. Your comments keep me going thank you!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a chance to write lately I'm not sure how much longer till that happens again, but here is another chapter quickly.

He pestered Chuck for the next two hours trying to sort out all the details everything he could remember about Sammy. Chuck said he hadn’t seen anything about Sam since Halloween, and Dean didn’t want to believe him, but he wasn’t sure what his other options were. Tight fear was a knot in his gut. Was Sam dead? Was that why Chuck couldn’t see him?

Chuck had been scarily detailed in his descriptions of what happened Halloween night and all the other things he mentioned. Honestly, he didn’t care what happened to him he wanted to save his brother. He had to save him. It wasn’t even something his dad told him to do. Somehow it was always his responsibility ever since that day his mom told him to take Sammy and run. He always tried to look out for him. He had one job in life. Take care of Sammy and he screwed it up. If he was honest with himself, it was the one thing he always managed to do. He failed the people he loved. He let his dad down in his own way he had even let Cas down. He forgot that this thing he had with Cas that it wasn’t real. Now he was supposed to let Sam down again.

Chuck told him about how he saw the last night with Cas as he tortured the Sam clone. Dean had felt the censure in his voice as he recounted his vision. Dean knew what he did was wrong, but he had been desperate he was still desperate.

“Was it only the torture you saw?” he remembered asking Chuck worried that he saw the humiliating turndown Cas gave him.

Chuck wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Are you asking about you and the angel?”

That answered his question for him. In that regard, he didn’t see any judgment from the other man. Chuck was nodding softly.

“Yes and for what it’s worth…” Chuck started, but Dean had shaken off his compassionate hand on his shoulder the pity on his face only served to make him more defensive.

“Yeah sorry I struck out you’ll have to get your peeping tom jollies another way.” Dean shot back.

Chuck looked offended, and Dean felt bad for his short temper.

“Sorry,” Dean responded not bothering for any added clarification. Chuck accepted the apology with grace simply nodding.

“What do you know about demon deals?” Dean asked trying to change the subject. Chuck looked away.

“Demon’s culture revolves around the deals, they always keep their arrangements, but they also only make deals that are in their best interest. They will always keep their promise to the letter but if there is a way around, they will find it. That is why the angels are freaking out over this temporary peace. They assume the demons are going to find a way to screw them over.

They are constantly trying to turn the situation where they can get a cat’s paw, someone; they can manipulate and dupe into whatever the condition calls for.”

Dean nodded, so it was very possible that the angles were manipulated into freeing him without even knowing it as a way to uphold Sam’s deal. The question was what was Sam’s deal?

“So don’t trust the angels or demons,” Dean muttered with a laugh.

Chuck shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“What about Sam’s deal?” he asked. Chuck fidgeted

“His is a bit open ended,” Chuck admitted. Dean watched him waiting for Chuck to explain.

“Sam offered to trade places with you, but they refused they didn’t ask for anything except permission.”

Dean frowned

“Permission for what?” Then the light bulb went off in his mind. The clones. They needed permission to make the clones, but then why was Sam still with them? What did they have on him?

“Then you do know about the clones…” Dean continued. Chuck nodded. “How many are there?”

Chuck shrugged “Hundreds… maybe more.”

 

***

 

The next few days fell into the same pattern. During the day, he talked to Chuck got to know the man. At night, he was left to his thoughts. He would stare at the ceiling the brownstone severed as a focal point for his thoughts. He thought trying to piece together Sam’s life after he went to hell.

Halloween had not been the first time that Chuck had seen Sam, but it was the first time that he had seen them together. Chuck's visions started sometime after he went to hell.

Most of what Chuck had seen from his life was his day to day life in the pit. Dean felt sorry for that it was scaring enough to be tied for some reason to a stranger’s life it had to be much worse to watch that stranger in hell.

Alastair was the master of torture, but he had been tortured in hell long before he ever came around.

But he was dead or at least a version of him, Dean was still unclear about the consciousness copying how it worked and what happened to the original consciousness. Sam/Alastair saved him he wasn’t sure if it was that enough of his brother’s original mind remained that it took over or for some reason Alastair sided with his enemy in his last moments.  

He tried to focus on what he did know. Sam was working with demons to what end he wasn’t sure, but somehow he must have made a deal. Maybe it was conceited to think that Sam’s predicament was because of him, but Dean knew it was true. In his gut, he knew that if he hadn’t gone to hell to protect him he wouldn’t have made the deal with the demons. It was a catch 22, in trying to protect his brother he ended up convincing him to make a deal.

Things had been so simple back then. He had his place in the right hand of the resistance his Dad was their leader. Sam had college and Jess. Then it all ended.

Jess was killed, and Sam lost his head.

He had never seen his brother like that. The anger in him was pure bloodthirsty vengeance.

Jess had been protesting human slavery with a group from the college in Arizona when the fire started.

The Angels set fire to the building where the protest was staged. It was meant to be an example, and it was. Seventy-three people lost their lives that night including Jess. Sam had been with him.

Their Dad had just been captured by the Angels and Dean had insisted that Sam come with him as he tried to bust him out of a prison camp. They had hoped to catch them before they transferred John to hell. They had not been that lucky. They had attacked the camp only to learn that John had been taken immediately to hell.

They returned too late to save Jess, but Sam was not about to leave her death unavenged.

Dean wished he could say that he told Sam not to go off half-cocked to think things through and make a plan first, but he hadn’t.

He remembered the look on Sam’s face Dean had to pull Sam from the fire when they arrived at the building it had already been a full blaze. The heat had made his eyes water, and the smoke coated his lungs, but Sam hadn’t cared he wanted to save her. He wouldn’t admit there was nothing left to save.

Dean had to damn near knock his brother out to get him to listen to reason. He tackled him before he could reach the building they stayed sprawled on the ground watching the building burn for what felt like an eternity.

The screams stopped shortly after they arrived, but they would never be able to forget them.

Sam didn’t cry, Dean always assumed it was the shock. He knew there were moments in the brief time they were together afterwards that he thought he saw a sheen of tears in his brother’s eyes.

Dean hadn’t known Jess as well as he wanted to, but he knew she was kind and sweet, but fearless where it counted she reminded him of his mom.

Later they identified the victims via dental records and released the bodies for burial, but Sam and Dean were not there.

At first they had simply watched the building, at that moment Dean had been so wracked with guilt he had been content to watch the world burn, and yet at the same time he had been plagued with out of place relief if Sam had been with Jess he might have been able to save her, but most likely he would have died and Dean would have been alone and while he grieved for his brother’s loss at the same time he was fucking glad he wasn’t one of the charred bodies inside.

After an hour or so the firefighters had reduced the flames to ghostly smoke and the scorched building loomed over them. The calm resolve on Sam’s face was what made Dean agree with his brother. They had work to do.

The angels responsible for the fire weren’t hard to find. The point of the attack was an example, so there were plenty of witnesses.

It was a group of three angels directly responsible, Dean was never sure how far up the food chain the order came from but at that moment it hadn’t mattered.

They hunted them down. It took five days. They slept in shifts driving and scouting powered by truck stop food, caffeine and rage.

The Angels were returning to a garrison in Northern California if they had thought it through maybe they wouldn’t have attacked a garrison full of angels, but Dean doubted it.

Everything happened quickly; they were inside when the alarm went off. They hadn’t cared; they were on a mission.

They killed the angels who set the fire but in the process they brought a powerful wave of holy wrath down on them.

Dean was already a wanted man for his work in the resistance, Sam had been lucky enough to stay off the angel radar until this point. They were surrounded within minutes.

“Get out of here I’ll find another way out.” He had said when they split up, but he knew then that he was giving up.

He let them catch him to allow time for Sammy to escape, he could still picture the look on his brother’s face, and he raised his hands up in surrender. Confusion then anger. Dean had ignored his brother’s outrage.

There was no way out of this without making a deal. He turned himself in on the promise that the angels would leave Sam alone. He hadn’t trusted them, but he had no other choice. What he hadn’t counted on was his brothers resolve to save him. It seemed like it was a weakness in their family. Self-sacrifice.

*******

He wasn’t sure how long he had been in the arena when they came from him, but it wasn’t what he expected. They weren’t bringing him to fight.

The two guards that came for him were not ones that he recognized. They unlocked his chains from the bed but kept his legs shackled and pulled his wrists behind his back before connecting his collar to a pole they carried forcing him to follow their lead.

 

He shuffled behind the guards on his way out of the cells cooperating for the moment out of curiosity until they passed the practice yard, and then he knew something was different. They were not headed to the arena.

They led him out the gate and up to a windowless black van. At first he thought maybe this was the resistance’s way of getting him out but something didn’t feel right.

They shoved him into the van without care for where he landed. The seats in the back of the van had been removed and with his hands tied behind his back he couldn’t break his fall as he hit the metal hard on one side. The chains rattled pinching at his wrists.  

“Where are you taking me?”

The guard turned, and his eyes flashed black the nictitating membrane that identified him as a demon sliding forth.

“Lilith seeks an audience.” He replied flatly before turning back to the road.

Dean felt his heart lurch, a meeting with Lilith could not be a good thing.

He remembered how that little satanic bitch looked coated in Anna’s blood; she thrived on pain and suffering.

The van ride didn’t take that long maybe fifteen minutes, so he filed that away for the future he wasn’t that far from the training ground. Likely still close to the downtown district.

They had not bothered to blindfold him so it either didn’t matter that he might recognize where he was, or he wouldn’t live long enough to do something about it.

The building didn’t look too special from the outside. It was just a simple warehouse looking structure. There were several floors the top most floor had large windows while the remaining levels had no discernable opening. The ground floor only had the double doorway entrance no windows.

The door was reinforced. It was a strange pairing. The guards hoisted him up his arms he tried to kick out but was hampered but the chains at his ankles. He gave the first one a solid kick to the face he stumbled back, but his partner’s grip never wavered on his arm.

He punched Dean in the gut forcing him to double over in pain they didn’t retaliate further but dragged him from the van through the doors. They shoved him into the elevator and pressed the top button rather than follow him the left him.

This was getting weirder by the second. The interior of the elevator was lined with floor length silver mirrors. His reflection was a bit worse for the wear his hair was mussed he had a few days’ worth of stubble he was still shirtless, and he wore the same grey pants his feet were bare. He wasn’t exactly prepared for a big showdown.

The elevator opened with a soft ding. He expected a torture chamber, dungeon, or sex palace, honestly anything except what he saw.

The room was open the entire space was bathed in sunlight white window curtains fluttered in the breeze from the open windows. The floor was cream marble. The walls were painted white, and twelve white columns were spaced evenly along the room six on each side hung with diaphanous white draping.  

In the center stood a woman her back was facing him. A large portion of tan skin was exposed wavy blonde hair caressed her back.

Folds of sheer and white gossamer fabric were constructed into a Roman style dress. She turned he was struck first by the sudden lurching realization; he recognized her or the body at least.

He knew better than to believe it was her not with all the freaky Sam clones running around, but the resemblance was uncanny.

She smiled wide. “Hello, Dean.”

She looked down at her body rubbing a sensual hand over her chest and hips. The right side of her dress was transparent he could see the outline of her breast and nipple down her stomach and the curve of her hip, the sheerness moved outwards just to the point that only a hint of her hip showed.

“Do you like my body, Dean? I had it made just for Sam; I like it. It's all grown up and pretty.”

He knew inside that it was Lilith, but she was the spitting image of Jess.

It made his heart ache, but it answered a lot of his questions. Lilith had Sam or at least knew where he was.

“Why am I here?” Dean demanded stepping further into the room.

He had moved maybe ten paces when he noticed the other women in the room all similarly clothed. Different ages were ranging from early teens the to late twenties. All young beautiful and blonde. He recognized one of the girls as the Lilith he saw before who murdered Anna he had no idea if she was also Lilith or just a vessel.

“To talk.” Her voice was soothing coaxing. It was surreal to watch Jess walk towards him after so many years looking exactly as he remembered her.

Dean scoffed loudly; he doubted her intentions were as benign as a conversation. He glanced around the room normally being surrounded by a bunch of half-naked women would have been a wet dream come true, but it was making him very nervous. He half expected to be stabbed in the back by one of these women when he least expected it.

“Yeah, well, I'm not interested.” Dean quipped. Scanning the room for some kind weapon.

“Hmm...” she cocked her head to the side like a cat. “Even if I'm offering to stand down? From the seals... the apocalypse... all of it?” her words were loaded filled with promise and hope, Dean wasn’t sure what to believe. The apocalypse was not something he wanted because it would end in fire and death for the whole planet, but he had to admit if he could find a way to get rid of the angels and demons and not burn the world down he would.

“Why the hell would you want to do that?” Dean wondered watching her. The women slowly filed out of the room behind him he saw them disappear into the elevator. He wasn’t sure what that indicated.

She shrugged as if to say did it matter

“You expect me to believe that?” Dean growled. Watching as she moved forward again.

“Honestly?” She asked raising a brow her hand on her hip. She scowled

“No. But it's the truth.” Dean wasn’t sure what to believe. He knew better than to take this conniving bitch at her word. He still remembered the glee she showed as she bathed in Anna’s blood.

“You can end it, Dean.” She whispered

“Right here, right now. I'll stop breaking seals, Lucifer keeps rotting in his cage. All you have to do is agree to my terms.”

“Why would you back down? Why now?” Dean wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. Why Lilith would offer to back down let alone give him her offer of surrender?

She shrugged again walking towards him. He felt venerable with his hands tied behind his back he could have retreated, but he would not allow himself that expression of weakness

He didn’t flinch as she laid a surprisingly gentle hand on his chest. Silver tipped claw rings covered her hands. She absently traced circles across his skin thin red lines of blood beaded to the surface as she progressed.

“Turns out, I don't survive this war.” She glanced up her soft eyes hardened

“Killed off, right before the good part starts.” There was yearning in her tone; he wasn’t sure what it meant.

 

“What do you want?” Dean choked out. He wasn’t sure what he could offer that would make Lilith stop.

 

She grinned wide “For it to go back to the way it was. Before I had angels to deal with 24/7.The way the angels tell the story they make us the villains, but we were just trying to survive, and rather than share their precious planet they tried to exterminate us, so we left, and they have doggedly hunted us down across the universe.” She leaned over and licked the blood from his chest and seemed to shiver in primal enjoyment.

“I want to go back to the good old days when it was all baby blood all the time.” Her lips were reddened by his blood. “I want to leave your stunted little planet and find a new home.”

Dean knew his expression must have been a bit confused, but he was surprised by Lilith’s sarcastic words.

“What did you think your planet was our first? No, those winged tattooed freaks have hunted us always. We find a new planet we fit in we assimilated we were here hundreds of years before your angel friends showed up. When they do it is all subjugation and obedience, this is where you come in.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked she raised a brow. “Help me cripple the angels, we leave they can’t follow, and they will be weak enough that your human resistance will be able to defeat them.”

 

“And what do you want in return?” Dean asked knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.

 

Lilith cocked her head to the side again watching him like she wanted to eat him alive.

 

“You on your knees, wearing my collar, bowing down for me, submitting to my every desire, Sam too.” Her voice was pitched seductively, but he imagined it would be far more pain than pleasure.

“Why would that satisfy you?” he asked immediately regretting his sexually charged word choice.

She smirked, but it was a bit too many teeth, and there was murder in her eyes. “Call it a consolation prize. If I can’t end the angels bloody I can keep you a symbol of the resistance as my puppy, which I can kick whenever I like, and Sam…” she sighed nostalgically,

“I’ve grown too accustomed to his screams.” Dean tensed at her words he didn’t care if she looked like Jess in that second he wanted to strangle the life out of her with his bare hands.

He took an aggressive step towards her, and she laughed it was musical.

“Down boy,” she taunted her eyes glimmered with malice. “So what do you say, Dean? Self-sacrifice is the Winchester way, isn't it?”

 

 

“You really think I'm stupid enough to fall for this?” he asked

 

“I make a deal; I have to follow through. Those are the rules, and you know it. Are you really so arrogant that you would put your life before the lives of six billion innocent people?”

Dean was trying to think this through. He remembered what Chuck said about demon deals, but this was above his pay grade. How could he be sure that she even had to power to do something like this? Could he take the chance? He was going to be fighting for his life in the arena was going with Lilith that much worse?

Yeah it would be submitting to her would kill him long before he was dead and buried but he would do it.

He looked down “Not Sam.” Dean continued softly but firmly

A startled look had crossed her face before a smug smile spread across her lips.

“No deal, Dean, your soiled hide isn’t enough to keep me interested on its own.”

“Let Sam go.” He insisted.

She grinned “Silly goose. You wanna bargain, you have to have something that I want. You don't. You know the terms, now are you going to accept or not?”

“Let Sam go.”

“You keep going and I’ll keep saying no.”

Dean tensed “What do I have to do?” he asked gravely Lilith beamed her eyes swept him from his head to his toes.

“First, start groveling, needy guys are such a turn on.” She jeered.

It was Dean’s turn to pause. She patted her thigh like one might when calling over a puppy.

Every fiber of his being screamed for him not to do this. However, he couldn’t afford to keep his dignity intact when it was Sammy’s life on the line. Slowly he sunk to his knees. His eyes never leaving hers. His body vibrated with the effort it took to force himself to kneel before her. It pained him it went against ever iota of his nature.

“Here boy?” she crooned patting her leg again.

He wanted to vomit, and he inched his way towards her on his knees. He couldn’t push the similarity of Cas crawling towards his and him crawling towards Lilith from his mind.

Had Cas felt like this? Had he betrayed Cas long before Cas betrayed him?

His jaw was clenched so tight that his teeth ached. His entire body was tensed, and he moved painfully slow towards her.

Once he reached her she reached for him, her forearms were crisscrossed by fragile gold chains

His skin rebelled at the notion of her touch; he wanted to shrink away from her poisonous skin, but it would be taken as a weakness.

“Stop.” A gravelly voice ordered. Dean’s attention snapped towards the door.

Dean wished that his heart didn’t leap in reaction to seeing Cas. He wore his suit haphazardly underneath the tan trench coat he had given him. He could feel Lilith stiffen behind him, but it was not worth looking away from Cas. Something about him looked different. There was weariness on his face. His red rimmed eyes were tired heavy bags rested beneath them like he hadn’t slept in days. His lips were chapped, but from his vantage point he could not see anything else amiss.

“You object angel?” Lilith asked he could feel her practically seething next to him.

Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about Cas, he betrayed him forcing him into the arena and this situation to begin with, but a flicker of hope bloomed in his chest.

“He has no right” Cas continued. His eyes were cold and, the stony expression on his face gave Dean pause.

Dean frowned confused. “He is my slave, he cannot deal with you.” Cas had not met Dean’s eyes yet, and Dean had a sudden urge to bolt to his feet and force him to look at him.

“You gave him up when he entered the arena.” Lilith nearly purred.

“I loaned him; he is still my property.” Cas clarified. “And he is coming with me.” He insisted stepping towards him he grabbed him by his left deltoid roughly yanking him to a standing position. He staggered slightly unbalanced by his chained hands and his shoulder knocked against Cas forcing his eyes to him for the first time. He released him immediately with a quiet hiss. Dean swayed but did not lose his equilibrium. What the hell was wrong with him?

Rather than touch him again he directed him with a wave of his hand toward the elevator. Dean knew he was openly staring at Cas, but the man wouldn’t have noticed since he was looking only at Lilith. Dean turned toward the elevator to leave, and Cas settled in silently behind him.

Lilith did not fight him on the matter “Dean.” She called out as he reached the elevator.

He cast a quick look over his shoulder.

“Remember what we agreed to.” As if it was perfectly timed the elevator doors closed on her words.

Dean didn’t need to turn to see Cas since the mirrored walls clearly showed his face, but rather than drop the act like he expected Cas to he continued to stare silently at his own reflection. The silence between them was more painful than he expected. So many emotions swirled inside him.

“Where have you been?” Dean asked, “What is going on?” Cas didn’t answer any of his questions, and that was all he needed. Ok things hadn’t changed since the last time they spoke.

Dean couldn’t allow his shame to control his actions as much as he didn’t want to, as much as he expected him to deny him again Dean continued.

“I feel stupid doing this.” Dean began watching Cas’s expression in the mirror “But...I am fresh out of options. So please. I need some help.” His voice quavered slightly.

Rather than turn or acknowledge him he stared straight ahead.

“Prayer is a sign of faith.” His words felt out of place. Like they belonged in another conversation in another time.

 

“So does that mean you'll help me?” Dean wondered.

 

“I'm not sure what I can do,” Cas admitted his voice drained his entire demeanor was shattered

“Drag Sam out of here,” Dean insisted turning to face the man rather than the reflection. Wishing his hands were not chained so that he could grab him and shake him what had gotten into him. “Now.” Dean insisted trying to impress upon Cas the urgency of the situation.

“Before Lilith kills him.”

 

“Sam is her property. I can't interfere.”

Dean stepped in front of Cas forcing him to look at him but the moment he was in front of him he looked away again staring at the ground.

“You have tested me and thrown me every which way.” Dean reminded him his voice resolute.

“And I have **_never_** asked for anything else. Not a **_damn_** thing else.”

He could almost see the barest whisper of acknowledgment in Cas, but he wasn’t looking at him.

“Save my brother, I'm asking. I need your help. You promised. Please.”

 

“What you're asking, it's... not within my power to do.” Cas continued dully

“So, what – We're just supposed to sit around and, and wait for it to happen?” Dean nearly growled. Angry at Cas’s continued disinterest.

 

“I'm sorry.” He nearly whispered. Something in Dean snapped.  

“Screw you.” He spat out leaning into the man forcing him to acknowledge him. He may be in chains he might even be his slave for all the world cared, but he didn’t want to be that to Cas. He wanted Cas’s anger his annoyance his frustration anything opposed to this banal avoidance.

“You and your mission. Your God.” He snarled

 

“If you don't help me now,” Dean began knowing this threat held the same weight as his promise the night they asked him to torture Alastair.

“Then when the time comes and you need me... don't bother knocking.”

Castiel’s eyes rose up to meet his. It looked like it took an exorbitant amount of effort to maintain eye contact.

“I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean.” He admitted his hoarse voice was filled with anger there that Dean didn’t understand.

“I serve **_heaven_** , I don't serve man, and I certainly don't serve **_you_**.” The last was a reproach filled with revulsion.

The elevator doors opened noiselessly, and the black van from before stood waiting outside.

“Take him back to the arena,” Cas ordered without a second look his way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are amazing thank you!


	22. 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has lots of different types of violence so be prepared. This chapter was hard for me to write sorry it took so long I hope it doesn't suck.

*****TRIGGER WARNING*** HEAVY VIOLENCE *****

Lilith watched the elevator doors close, poised and calm. The moment they snapped shut she unleashed her wrath.

She screamed inarticulacy tearing at her hair. She had been so close. So close to convincing Dean Winchester to join them, so close to achieving her goal, and then the fucking angels got in the way… again.

She shrieked loud and long the sound reverberating off the walls trapped in the open spaces. Stomping her feet angry at the world. Her hands flew out widely, psychic wind causing chaos, the golden plates and bowls her attendants had been so recently eating from clattered about as she flung them in a whirlwind around her. Candles rolled perilously close to the diaphanous curtains threatening to burn her sanctuary to the ground before snuffing out under the force of the wind.

“Patience, my dear.” A voice called out.

She spun on him wanting to obliterate the man before her. Azazel, her jailer. Yet she composed herself.

“I failed.” She continued shamefully

Azazel stepped towards her. He was still wearing the same meatsuit from before, he wore a forest green button down shirt and a brown canvas jacket.

He laid a soft hand on her shoulder but there was a subdued force behind his grip on her shoulder, he gripped just tight enough to remind her that he could harm her if he wanted to.

“Not quite my dear, you have planted a seed.”

He brushed his fingertips across her shoulders. He stepped carefully behind her, alarm bells sounded in her head at his nearness she was vulnerable he could kill her now and she would never be able to stop him. Not while his large hands framed her neck and yet she knew he wouldn’t kill her, not yet. He still needed her.

“You played your part convincingly.” He whispered kissing the back of her neck.

The shiver that went through her at his touch had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with revulsion.

His grip around her neck tightened.

“Perhaps a bit too convincingly.” He continued menace overwhelming his tone.

Her heart leapt into her throat she half feared that he would feel the rapid beat beneath his fingertips and end it now, before she had a chance to defend herself.

“Are you having second thoughts?” He asked his words a snarl.

She stood straighter her chin held high. He must not sense her doubt.

“I am still willing.” She insisted all traces of doubt free from her voice.

“I will sacrifice myself so that Lucifer can rise.” She continued. Secretly however she hoped that there might be another way.

A way that Lucifer could gain his freedom and she wouldn’t have to die to achieve that.

That way involved Dean Winchester’s corporation. She had almost achieved that today, but Azazal was right about one thing. This wasn’t over she just needed patience

She had his brother. The man would crawl on his belly over hot coals to save him, she did not doubt that if she tried again he would say yes.

***

 

Gabriel considered himself a laid back kind of guy. He didn’t let the little things phase him. Like running out of booze, or ordering Mo Gu Gai Pan and getting Szechuan Pork instead, but the fucking apocalypse was a bit bothering. He should have warned Castiel sooner. Maybe if he spoken up about his doubts about the council they wouldn’t be in this mess. His brother was probably dead, and the world was about to burn and yet a tiny nagging part of his brain wouldn’t let him leave well enough alone.

Someone other than the Oiad was giving the orders. He’d suspected that for a long time, but he figured the same as the rest of the archangels did. Order was better than chaos even if that order came from an unknowable being. Honestly, it kind of made him laugh because as far as he was concerned it was the same damn situation.

Somebody gave the orders, and he was just there to goof off and get laid. End of story. Except it wasn’t the end of the story, because he still didn’t know who was pulling the strings, and now it mattered.

Castiel had been missing for nearly two weeks when suddenly he showed up at Lilith’s penthouse, no less, chasing after Mr. popular Dean Winchester. Gabriel could not understand what people saw in him. Sure he was cute but he was way more trouble than he was worth.

He didn’t know the whole situation there with the Winchester prisoners. Only that they were buried deep in hell because they gave the other humans hope. He knew there was more to it than that; there was some big plan that he didn’t know the details about, but he had heard Uriel and Michael whispering.

They assumed that he had no interest in their side dealings and for the most part he didn’t, but he had focused on a few keywords. Apocalypse was one of them. The end game was out of his frame of reference, but he knew that they didn’t want to stop it.

He remembered the days after leaving their planet. Everyone grieved for the loss of their perfect home, but he remembered what life on Oadriax was really like versus the bedtime stories told to those born after. The utter compliance required by the Oiad and his wrath was absolute. The apocalypse was a reckoning. Destroying the leaders of evil while raising up the righteous, but on Oadriaxit was Sunday dinner. The other archangels wanted revenge for their lost planet; they wanted to make the demons into scapegoats. The truth was their planet had already been dying, but the Oiad would not abandon his home world. They left a sinking ship, not a paradise. Hopping from planet to planet conquering the cosmos was as much about survival as it was about fighting the demons.

That was the reason he found himself in front of Castiel’s villa trying to decide if he should go in.

His modus operandi before now had always been stay out of it. He had never been able to watch his brothers and sisters tear each other apart over petty squabbles now it to the point that he couldn’t stand idly by any longer. He had to pick a side, and if he was being honest. Michael was an ass hat Raphael was a religious nut bag and Lucifer well he loved him, but the man was a great big bag of dicks.

The only brother he had left that he gave a damn about was Castiel, so he was here. He wasn’t sure what he intended on doing only that he had to do something.

He walked in like he owned the place because subtly wasn’t his style.

“Honey I’m home!” he shouted into the entryway. He wasn’t sure where Cassie was it was surprisingly quiet. None of the usual servants were wondering around. The air had a strange stale odor, but that made sense given the fact that he was gone for two weeks. Most likely Castiel had only just now returned home So Gabe made himself at home he went to the bar and made himself a drink and begin to wonder through the house. Casually calling for Castiel.

He must not have heard him because he showed no sign of acknowledgment as he entered the bedroom. His back was to him.

“Hi, Castiel!” Gabriel called out with feigned girlish excitement he wanted to believe that Cas didn’t flinch at his words, but he knew it was a lie. The man spun like he expected to be stabbed in the back and maybe he really did expect that. Gabriel wasn’t entirely gauche. He ignored his skittishness and tried to keep the mood light.

“Remember me bucko?” he teased hugging the stiff angel his hissed at the contact and rather than compose himself like he expected the man simply stiffened up even further like he thought any second Gabe was going to hurt him or something.

“Why are you here Gabriel?” Castiel asked wearily.    

Gabe frowned. “Can’t a brother stop by and check on his sibling ever once in a while?” he asking taking a quick sip of his vodka.

“We are not related.” Was the only reply he received since Gabriel was not a man easily detoured he continued

“Is that really important?” he asked studying him. He looked different alright there were deep shadows under his eyes and a wariness about him that hadn’t been there before. Like an abused dog, torn between expecting affection or another swift kick.  

“Why are you here Gabriel?” he asked stepping in front of him. He was trying to block his view of something.

Gabriel dropped the act. “I wanted to see if you were ok.” He replied genuinely concerned.

He had expected to find Cas a little worse for the wear, licking his wounds but not broken. He fiercely wished Balthazar was here. He knew Cas better than anyone he would be able to gage truly his state of mind.

“I heard you got beamed back up to the mothership.” He informed him. Metaphorically speaking they were mostly based on earth there wasn’t actually a mother ship.

Castiel frowned.

“I received revelation from our superiors,” He corrected rebuking.

Ok, Cas had drunk the Kool-Aid alright. He had a few little chats with the Tartaruchi in the past, and the angelic torture masters were very good at their job, but this was downright brainwashing.

He wasn’t sure what the point of it was.

“How is Dean?” he wondered. Trying to gauge where the man’s mind was at. He recalled Balthazar complaining at the closeness of the two men.

“He will comply.” Castiel assured him. Gabe hissed at that.

That was awkward. “As comforting as that is…” he continued pacifying him “I wasn’t asking that.” Gabe added with reservation

“His feelings on this are inconsequential. I freed him so that he can give himself over wholly to the service of God and his angels."

Gabe knew he was staring, eyes wide with surprise mouth agape the whole nine yards but where did his sweet little brother go? Cassie had never exactly been the life of the party not with that stick firmly wedged up his ass, but he had never been cruel. He cared about people. He had never been the type of person to use the humans as he saw fit.

He was decent, compassionate, sincere, and they broke him.  

“God, you're a dick these days.” Gabe spat out without meaning to, thinking that his words could just as easily be applied to himself. He was a dick he ignored all the warning signs, and now he had had it.

Castiel was taken aback. The shock was evident on his face.

“I am only following orders.”

Gabe chuckled throwing up his arms in frustration. “Yeah, and how well has that gone for you, for any of us?”

Warming up to his thoughts he continued. “How long have we traveled the universe conquering and for what? How long have we played this game by rules that make no sense?”

“It is our father's world, Gabriel.” Castiel continued “Who are we to question the will of God?”

 

“Our father?” he asked making a twisted face mocking the thought. “He stopped being that, if he ever was, the moment he asked for only our obedience.”

“Are you trying to convert me?” Castiel asked suspiciously

Gabriel sighed. “Yeah, that was why I came today. I wanted you to join me. And I still do. With you, we can be powerful enough to.”

 

“To...” Castiel asked guarded.

“Free Dean Winchester.” He finished knowing that was the root of everything. The other angels didn’t want Cassie with him. That’s why they sent him back to bible school because he was soft on the guy. Gabe didn’t know why but if it fucked up their plans.

 

“You do remember him? How strong he was? How beautiful? And he didn't bow to down to anyone. He was punished for defending himself. Now, if you want to believe in something, Cas, believe in him.”

 

“Dean is not God.”

 

“God isn't God anymore.” Gabriel scoffed. Setting his drink down on the end table. “He doesn't care what we do. I am proof of that.” Gabriel taunted.

 

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying someone else is giving the orders, has been for a long time.”

Castiel shook his head. A tiny slip of white showed at his throat and drew Gabriel’s curiosity.

He stepped forward pulling Castiel’s shirt collar down surprised by what he saw.

“They collared you?” he demanded surprised. Being a kinky species as a whole there were several types of collars but it boiled down to two basic concepts. Collars for control, and ones for release. One was forced the other was a gift. This Collar was meant to control Cas it was a reminder of what they did to him. Rather than have a soft lining to protect his skin the inner lining of the stiff white leather collar was coated with a rough substance like sandpaper. It grated against his skin leaving raw reddened skin beneath. He had to be in constant pain.

Gabriel reached for his brother's wrists pulling up his sleeves. A matching pair of white cuffs adorned his wrists. Gabriel shook his head disgusted. He moved to remove the offending ornaments, but Castiel jerked his hands back.

Understanding dawned. “You’re scared.”

Castiel looked away not acknowledging Gabriel’s words.

“Let me help you.” Gabe insisted.

“No, this is my punishment.” He insisted gruffly staring at the ground.

“Bitch Please.” He replied the sass in his voice should have been enough to get a reaction from his brother but instead he continued to watch him with conviction.

Gabe frowned “For what?” he continued humoring him.

“For ignoring the word of God.”

Gabriel sneered “They really did a number on you, little brother.” He shook his head sadly. They had cultivated Cas’s shame and confusion at disobeying into a full blown mental fixation. He would have to free Dean Winchester on his own, and if he were lucky, maybe Dean would save Cas.

Gabriel turned and walked out of the room disgusted with his entire race.

Castiel turned back to the small end table he had been facing when Gabriel entered the room.

A small brown flogger with sharp metal tips was rested carefully on the table. He shed his trench coat and shirt. He knew that his body was covered in bruises. His back was in tatters. Bloody red welts crisscrossed their way across his back partially obscuring his angelic wings tattoos.

He knelt and bowed his head in penance. He was an angel of the Lord, and would not be led again into temptation. His existence was to serve God, believing otherwise was blasphemy.

His thoughts strayed to Dean, without the drugs his mind was clearer, he could picture Dean’s face without the aid of the picture they had provided. He had been hurt by Castiel’s rejection, but it was of no consequence.

Seeing him today had caused a mix of feelings. Irrational fear tinged with yearning. That was the blasphemy he should not want Dean it was wrong and a sin against his God.

Humans were weak and inferior, and he was created to service the angelic state and nothing more. Individualism was not important. They lived for the good of the state as a whole, and the state thrived.    

He swung the flogger up over his right shoulder landing with a loud crack against his back. His feelings for Dean were wrong, he was wrong, an abomination. He switched sides landing a stinging blow to the left side of his back.

He had been so close to helping Dean today even knowing that it was wrong. The need and expectation on his face made him ache to soothe him. He yearned for something that he could not have.

The pain helped remind him of the truth, his feelings didn’t matter, that God’s plan for him was all that mattered.

 

**(Authors note: I would like to point out the difference between self-harm and enjoying pain in an S &M situation. Self-harm is not necessarily masochistic People self-injure to distract themselves, alter the focus of their attention, or regain control over their minds when experiencing pressing, unavoidable and overwhelming feelings or thoughts. It is used to release tension associated with strong emotions or overwhelming thoughts. To feel something physical when they are otherwise dissociated and numb or to express themselves or communicate and/or document strong emotions they are feeling and cannot otherwise articulate. Sometimes it is used to punish themselves. Masochism is not self-harm There is, however, a fine line between the two. Masochists hurt themselves to get off, for the pleasure, the rush, and the high. Those who self-harm don’t necessarily enjoy the pain. Are there people out there who are masochists and self-harm yes, but this scene in not that. This is about a confused man warped by his religious beliefs into thinking that he needs to be punished. This is Mortification of the flesh the institutional expiatory act of a person or group's penance for atonement of sins and path to sanctity. This is not BDSM this is self-harm.)**

***

Dean wasn’t taken immediately back to his cells. He was led up the stairs into the upper portion of the building. The further up he went the less like the prisons and the rest of the arena it appeared. Honestly it sort of looked like an office building. The air conditioning was too cold against his nearly naked body. At some point on the way back from Lilith’s he had stepped on something that cut the sole of his foot every step he took stung and he was leaving tiny bloody patches in his wake on the cream carpeting. Something about that actually appealed him. He lived to be a pain in the ass to angels. He liked to think of them sinking down to the floor to scrub the damn carpet. The two angel guards had fared better than the demon ones he was only able to punched one of them in the gut before the hit him over the head. The walked half dragged him through the office. He was getting extremely tired of being dragged around by angels.

They finally looked like they were approaching their destination a large corner office.

They pushed him through the door and closed it behind him. It looked like today was the day he got to sit around and chit chat with everyone.

“Dean” a genial voice called out. “Come in have a seat, I’m Zachariah.”

The man waved him in he was an older man in his fifties slightly balding with grey hair he was sitting behind a large desk. He wore a dark suit with a silver tie. He was an angel no one even had to say it for him to know the truth of it. Another angel here to tell him what to do and how to act all the while he was their prisoner expected to fight and die for them in the arena. He would fight alright, but he wouldn’t die wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

“Oh, great. That's all I need is another one of you guys.”

“I'm hardly another one, Dean. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here for a chat.”

He stood and indicated the chair in front of the desk for Dean to sit, Dean ignored the invitation the angel frowned slight but continued gracious as ever.

“But after the unfortunate situation with Uriel, I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row.”

“I am not one of your ducks.” Dean insisted meeting the man’s eyes. All the false kindness disappeared from them,

“Starting with your attitude.” He growled. Stepping closer.

“Listen Dean, I’m middle management. I’ve got better things to do than come down here and talk to the help. You are a slave Dean. We took you out of hell because we needed you. You don’t need to know what for. You don’t need to know anything. You just need to obey.” The last word was a heavy command.

“We’ve been nice so far. Do you think the most people get this far in the arena without fighting? We were hoping a little time to cool your heels and you might start thinking our way was better.”

“Oh, so, what?” Dean demanded throwing up his chained hands the metal rattling.

“This was all some sort of a lesson? Is that what you're telling me? Wow. Very creative.” He continued underwhelmed.

“You should see my decoupage.” Zachariah insisted with a raise of his brows.

“Gross. No thank you.” Dean spat out before he had time to think he really didn’t wanna see any more of this angel.

“It’s more than a lesson it’s a reminder. The arena is more than just blood sport Dean it’s a test.”

Dean frowned not sure what the hell the angel was talking about. Cas threw him in here because of the fight with Uriel right? Was it possible that there was more to it than that?

 

“To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're a warrior. Not because your dad made you, not because Oaid called you back from hell, but because it is what you are. And you love it. You'll find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Dean, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful in the arena, we are counting on it actually.”

Something about his tone really made him wish dying to spite him was an option. He didn’t like that they were forcing his hand. They maybe they didn’t want him dead after all and that actually made him more nervous. Zachariah continued his strange pep talk.

“Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things”

Dean scowled. Why was he doing this?

 

“There are plenty of fates worse than yours. Stop being sorry for yourself. Are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?”

 

 

***

The echo of his panting breaths filled his ears. He could hear the roar of the crowd in the background but the loudest thing in his small room was the pounding in his ears. He readjusted his grip on the blade the sweat from his palm had made the handle slippery. The blade itself was an eight inch bowie knife, but judging from the sounds of the creatures in the cages nearby he was leery that it would be enough to take on what the arena had in store for him. After his excursion to see Lilith and his conversation with Zachariah he had been taken to a small stone holding cell. A large metal gate the size of the cell was at his back. He knew this was the entrance to the arena. If he was going to be fighting another gladiator they would be placed in a similar chamber on the opposite side of the arena. If he would be fighting the beast as a team, his for the lack of a better word teammate would be placed in the cell with him and they and the beast would be released into the arena together.

Dean wasn’t sure which option would be better. If he could choose he would pick the beast because the idea of killing one of those poor SOBs back there ate him up inside.

The stone door that he had been so recently shoved through opened and Dean stepped forward to make an escape when his way was blocked but a man much shorter than himself. He had light brown hair and a swagger that screamed confidence beyond his size that screamed power.

“Who the hell are you?” Dean asked he wasn’t surprised just wary after his visit to Lilith and his conversation with Zach he wasn’t exactly in chatty mood.

“They call me Gabriel.” He replied with a cocky crooked smile looking back and forth inside and outside the cell examining him.

“I assume you are Dean Winchester.” He continued it was not a question. Dean stared at the angel because this person could be nothing less not with the superiority complex like this. Dean nodded.

The man shrugged. “I thought you’d be taller.” He quipped stepping into the doorway.

Dean grimaced at the stranger. “You’re one to talk.” He shot back.

The other man smiled wryly “Are all your witty rejoinders so ‘of the people’?”

Dean bit back his retort and instead focused.

“What do you want?” Dean asked at this point he didn’t really have the patience for this shit.

The man chuckled. “Everybody keeps asking me that today.” He mused seemingly carrying on a conversation that Dean was not a part of.

Dean lifted his blade prepared to defend himself if it came to that. The angel glanced down at the knife with scorn. “Pleeease.” He scoffed with raised brow.

“What do you want?” Dean asked again. Gabriel sighed heavily his entire body sagging under the weight of his sarcasm most likely.

“Peace on Earth?”

Dean wasn’t sure what was going on this damn angel was playing him somehow.

“It's Cas.” Gabriel muttered and for a second Dean ignored the fact that it was Cas’s fault that he was here in the arena, that Cas betrayed him and the worry sprang into his heart.

“He got sent back home. Well, more like dragged back.” Gabriel continued.

Dean frowned “To heaven?” he wondered “That's not a good thing?” He asked. The man was probably getting a commendation. wasn’t that how the angels worked betray each other and get gold stars?

 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “No.” he said flatly as if it was the most obvious thing in existence.

“That's a very bad thing. Painfully, awfully bad.” He said putting emphasis on each word. “He must have _seriously_ pissed someone off.”

Dean glanced away oh yeah Cas had done that alright.

“And why should I care?” Dean asked he knew he sounded petulant but honestly if he did care what he was supposed to do about it?

He didn’t get any taller that would have been impossible, but suddenly it felt like Gabriel’s presence expanded as his expression hardened he stepped closer.

“Listen you little twat, that is my brother you are talking about, and you should care, if you ever want to survive this pit.”   


Dean straightened he was done being intimidated. He did not take being threatened well.

“Why would an angel give a damn about me surviving this pit?” he asked still puzzling over Zachariah’s actions there was something conflicting going on in the angels ranks it seemed that half of them wanted him dean and other half wanted him alive for something.

“Because the others want you dead and that means you’re useful.”

He responded with a quirk of his mouth meaning he didn’t give a rat’s ass about him personally he just wanted to use him just like all the other fucking angels. Dean was about to dismiss the angel and any “help” he would offer when he continued with a heavy sigh.

“And because Castiel needs you.” The expression on his face was filled with worry.

“What do you mean?” Dean found himself asking.

“Heaven is not a health spa ya yahoo” Gabriel insisted.

“And?” Dean asked pushing him.

“And they clipped his wings big time.” He continued briefly glancing away

“Torture?” Dean asked knowing it was true before Gabriel even nodded.

“Torture, brainwashing, indoctrination, just a few of the services that Heaven’s happy helpers provide.”

Dean thought back to how shifty Cas had been this morning. How he wouldn’t look at him how he hissed and pulled away at his touch as if he’d been in pain, maybe he had been.

“Does that mean we are leaving?” Dean asked.

Amusement covered Gabriel’s face

“Ah no, Bucko it’s not that easy. Survive the next twenty-four hours, we'll talk.”

“Survive what? The arena?”

“The game!” Gabriel insisted

“What game?” Dean demanded

 

“You're in it, Sweetheart” He continued “The arena, all of it. Somebody wants you going through the paces as if you’re the prize pony at the fair. They want you dancing to their tune and I want to know why.”

“So you want me to stick my neck out in the arena so you can see why they want me dead? Yeah that sounds like a good way to keep me alive.”

Gabriel slapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder

“Now you’re getting it champ.”

Dean didn’t like games. Outside of the bedroom at any rate and he really had no intention of playing an angel’s game but seeing he didn’t have much of a choice he was planning on winning.

“I’m guessing this isn’t gonna be a fair fight then?” he asked Gabriel raised both his brows dramatically “Not by a long shot. Don’t trust anyone I wouldn’t put it past them to have someone shank you in your sleep”

“I don’t suppose you’re gonna help me even the playing field?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he teased and if it wasn’t his ass on the line Dean could almost see the humor in the situation but it wasn’t funny and he was done.

“Alright 24 hours and then you bust me out or I bust myself out.”

Gabriel snickered. “Yeah? You can do all that on your own?”

It was Dean’s turn to smirk, “People who underestimate have a tendency of winding up dead.”

Gabriel laughed earnestly “I like you, I see what Castiel’s sees in you.”

Dean wasn’t sure what he saw in Gabriel that made him believe him. Why he was going through with this maybe he was just biding his time. Maybe it was because kneeling for Lilith had scared the shit out of him. Not because he was afraid of her. That bitch could do whatever she wanted and he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He was afraid of what he was willing to give up to save Sammy.

He would debase himself and lose every bit of his sanity if he thought it would help save his brother and part of him was glad that Cas had been there to stop him.

The roar of the crowd got louder a low rumbling sound started in the stands, they were stamping their feet. Dean turned back to Gabriel in time to see the angel slide the door shut behind him.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean growled stomping.

Only a few seconds later the door opened again and he expected the angel again but it was a human. He knew that because they were collared.

The man was handsome but there was a lethal edge to it. He was underdressed just like Dean shirtless with dingy brown pants. His dark skin was covered in battle scars across his chest and muscular arms his black hair was close cropped leaving less than an inch. His dark beard was also in surprisingly good condition.

Dean eyed him up and down. Something about the man made him uneasy.

“Dean Winchester.” He acknowledged warmly he had a knife strapped to his belt and he wielded a machete the length of his forearm. So while he might be dressed like the average slave he was better equipped.

“I can't believe it.” he said all smiles his white teeth flashing.

“You know I met your old man once?” the man continued. “Hell of a guy. Great fighter. I heard he passed. I'm sorry. It’s big shoes. But from what I hear you guys fill 'em. Great trackers, good in a tight spot…”

Dean cut the man off “You seem to know a lot about my family” Dean glanced at the man’s blade.

“You mind putting that away that knife's making me itch.”

The man laughed he had a good laugh rich and hearty but something about him still was a bit off.

“Who are you?” Dean asked.

“Gordon Walker.” He replied reaching a hand out.

Dean didn’t take it after a moment the man dropped his extended hand seemingly not offended by Dean’s brush off.

“Ready to give them hell?” he asked.

Dean hesitated. Gabriel had warned him about trusting people, not that he really trusted the angel he just met him and trusting the last angel had gone so well for him but there was also the proclamation made on his first day. Anyone helping him was dead.

“I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy.” Dean continued.

Gordon frowned his dark eyes unreadable. “Come on, man, I’ve been itching for a fight. They’ve had me locked up in solitary for a month.”

Dean could respect that. The waiting alone had damn near killed him as well.

“Fighting with me will get you killed.” Dean told him.

“Why? You that bad Winchester?” Dean shook his head.

“They put a sanction on me.” Gordon laughed.

“Is that right? Well looks like we are more alike than I thought.”

“You got one too?” Dean asked.

Gordon grinned. “Gutted a guard on my first week here, they’ve been trying their damnedest to kill me ever since.”

Dean nodded he could respect that as well.

“I’m not saying we make a thing of it but they put us together because they know we can put on a show.”

Dean nodded it was possibly true that or by helping each other it would be all the excuse they needed to kill him. They could try to kill him at any time.

Gordon offered his hand again. Dean shook it. At least for now they would work together.

The door opened towards the arena Gordon gestured for him to go through it but Dean hesitated.

Gordon chuckled.

“Ok. That’s how were gonna play it.” He continued nodding before stepping through.

***

The arena was as he imagined. The light of the sun burned his eyes after so long in the dim cell. The arena floor was composed of a sunbaked packed clay. Reddened in places by spilled blood. The structure itself was an elliptical amphitheater built of concrete and stone rising up from the flat open air center.

Thousands of people surrounded them, it was all just a sea of faces. The rumors where that the stadium could hold between 50,000 and 80,000 spectators, Dean had no way of knowing how many people were there but the roar of blood thirsty people surprised him. They were seated in a tiered arrangement. Special boxes were provided at the north and south ends. Each tier was divided into sections by curved passages and low walls. The walls that flanked the arena that separated the spectators from the battles where additionally fortified by tall chain linked fences.

The roar of the crowd grew louder to the point it was almost deafening. The sun felt too warm against his skin causing him to sweat.

Gordon raised his arms up and the crowd to put it delicately lost their shit. They stamped their feet and shouted and bellowed his name, it rose up as a chant across the arena.

 

“Waaalker, Waaalker, Waaalker” The words blending together until a wave of sound. Many where hanging on the chain length fence as far over the wall as they could trying to get the best view possible.

“Popular one huh?” Dean asked Walker laughed

“I didn’t come here on my own will but I love the fight Dean.” He replied still smiling.

 

“It's all black and white. There's no maybe. You find the bad thing, kill it. See, most people spend their lives in shades of gray. Not us. Everything is clear here. It’s fight or die.”

Dean nodded gripping his blade tightly. He couldn’t really tell if Walker had the right idea or if he was crazy either way. It wasn’t time to think about that now.

 

The crowd grew suddenly quiet. He looked over. There was a balcony situated slightly over the arena field so that it had the best view. Spikes decorated the underside of it to deter anyone from attempting to use that as a means of escape.

The man standing there was not one that he recognized. He was young looking, with light brown hair, he wore the white robes that the angels seemed to only wear for political events.

Gordon turned towards him raised his arms in a double fisted salute.

“We who are about to die salute you!” he bellowed. Dean stared at him

“Comes with the gig.” He answered.

Dean just nodded again not repeating the action.

Whoever the angel was he didn’t seem offended by Dean’s disrespect.

“Let the fight begin.” He called out

On the other side of the arena the heavy gate opened with a large grating sound. Dean expected some kind of huge beast judging by the sounds from the cells in the underbelly of the arena. What walked through the door was not what he expected.

Six people stepped into the arena they were better armored that both him and Gordon. They wore chain mail across their chests and steel plating on their bodies including prominent steel gorgets around their necks. There was a mix of both men and women, but none of them looked afraid.

What they didn’t have was any obvious types of weapons.

Gordon chuckled again. “Not going easy on us are they?”

Dean quarter turned towards Gordon trying to figure out what he meant. Yeah it was six against two but they didn’t have any weapons. They would slaughter them.

Suddenly a strange snarl echoed across the arena. A crowd member had fallen from where he had dangled over the edge of the fence the people lunged towards him but they now had too many teeth. Rows of tiny sharp looking fangs filled their mouths to the point where it seemed impossible. Three of the group fell upon him the crowd went wild. They dug their multitude of teeth into the man’s neck, arms, and thigh and drank in his blood.

“What are they?” Dean demanded horrified.

“Monsters” Was all Gordon replied. “If you lose today and they don’t kill you, I’ll be fighting you next time.

The words and their meaning sunk in slowly. If he didn’t die he would become one of them?

“How?”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, they experiment on the losers make them into monsters for us to fight, does it matter?” His obvious lack of care pushed Gordon further in to the crazy zone.

These where people or at least they used to be people. It was a terrifying thought. The three that attacked the man seemed to be their leaders because once they had finished the others set upon the feast. The man was still moaning and gurgling out in pain. His groans carried across the field.

The man from the dais apparently had had enough of the side show and wanted them to focus on the main event.

“Enough!” He roared the creatures’ heads snapped up from the fresh kill their human like faces smeared with blood. They moved like animals quick graceful motions their limbs in perfect sync as they slowly stood.

Gordon fell easily into fighting stance. Excitement and bloodlust marred his features. He hadn’t been lying about loving the fight.

They rushed towards them with an unnatural speed.

“Separate the head from the body.”   Gordon informed him hefting his machete with a quick rolling flip of his wrist.

Which was easy for Walker to say he had a god damn machete, Dean’s bowie knife would be damn near useless, but that was the point of it all wasn’t it.

Some of them were obviously faster than others or the ones of lesser rank attacked first because the three leaders hung back surveying the fight.

Now Dean understood the purpose of what originally just appeared to be a largely ornamental neck protection. It made them even harder to kill.

The first tried to pounce on him with a hiss, he easily side stepped it using its momentum to shove it to the ground before straddling his back, the creature was stronger than him and nearly knocked him off before he was able to finish his task but Dean wrapped an arm around its neck and held on.

The gorget was held together by thick leather strings at the base of the back of the neck but his bowie knife made quick work of the strings and the gorget fell useless to the ground.

Another body knocked him off the first vampire and she wrestled him to the ground her red hair fell across his face as she brought her mouth towards his exposed neck.

He had lost his weapon in the scuffle and it took both of his hands to keep her from tearing into his flesh.

From the corner of his eye he could see the first vampire who attacked him rise from the ground and turn to join the woman.

He repositioned his hand using the forearm of his right arm against the metal at her throat to push her back and punched at her face with his free hand. The action itself seemed to do little damage but she reared back in surprise enough that he was able to unbalance her and roll away.

He found the knife as the first vampire fell upon him. He had lost sight of Walker during the struggle, but he was a little preoccupied by not dying to notice how he fared. Dean sliced at its throat blood poured from the wound but it kept coming he sliced again cutting deeper, enough that he could see the ridged pale pink flesh of its trachea. He could see the wound healing slowly but its flesh was knitting itself back together. Its neck bubbled up blood as still single-mindedly sought to rip out his throat. Dean continued in frenzied cuts trying to outpace its natural healing. Seven bloody frantic slices later the monsters head finally separated from its body he was caked in its blood and the dust from the arena floor, but he would have no moments rest to recover.

The second vampire the female shrieked an angry inhuman wail. She rushed him he slashed at her abdomen as she tackled him to the ground for a second time. Blood oozed from the cut but she didn’t give up the fight she dug into his arms with her sharp nails. Gnashing her teeth like a hungry animal. The frenetic rage that the others death had thrown her into made her less cautious but it doubled her strength he wasn’t able to push her away as he drove his bowie knife into her gut she bit into his shoulder thrown off her path to his throat by his thrust.

The pain as the hundreds of tiny razor sharp fangs ripped into his meat overwhelmed his system. He yelled out in pain. Reminded of the metal claws that Alastair had used to rip out his guts.

Her blood was rushing over him, while the gut wound hadn’t killed her it had weakened her. He jerked the knife upwards and she screamed in pain her grip growing lax. He was able to push her off him he had obviously punctured one of her lungs with his thrust because she lay split open gasping for air like a gutted fish. His fist around the blade was slippery with her blood but he clung to it and she knelt over her one foot on her chest he ripped the gorget from her neck with his free arm his used her body as leverage. Then he knelt over her he repeated the actions he used to kill the first vampire. Without the proper tools it was gory.

Once the deed was done he was able to take a moment to look around. Gordon had dispatched his two vampires and he seemed to be watching Dean with keen interest. The two he had killed lay in headless heaps on the ground blood pooled around the bodies and the cleanly separated heads. He looked like he hadn’t even broken a sweat killing them. It was then Dean realized that Gordon had quickly and easily dispatched his two vampires and simply watched to see if Dean survived. There was something cold about that something heartless and callous.

Dean stood up and made his way over to Gordon.

“You survived the first round.” He murmured his tone was impassive and yet Dean could tell he impressed him.

“With no help from you.” Dean grumbled.

“That wouldn’t have been any fun.” He replied almost instantly

“Here.” Gordon said as he tossed him a naked machete before pulling another from a holster on his side “You might need this.”

Dean realized then that Gordon was insane. There wasn’t any question about it.

“Now are you ready for round two?” Gordon asked

“I’ll take the one on the left? You take the one on the right?”

When it was done the vampire’s head lay on the ground. The roaring in his ears partially was from the pounding of his blood the rest was the rumble of the crowd.

He was breathing heavily, blood and ichor was splattered across his body and the ground. The dried blood on his skin made it itch. The bite on his shoulder was accompanied by vertical slashes from the last creature claw like nails, five deep red welts across his chest another five down his arm, and other places across his body.

Blood dripped from the tip of the blade of his borrowed machete.

It was then when he noticed the roar of the crowd had changed. He could tell it was a word. They were repeating it over and over. At first he thought it was Gordon’s name except they were chanting a different name.

“Deeean, Deeean, Deeean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it we are getting close to the end of this alternate season. comments are appreciated


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